The Hanging Tree
by mycroftgetoffmysheet
Summary: One year ago during Squad 451's raid on the capitol, Peeta and Katniss were taken prisoner and the rebels were forced to retreat.  After enduring nightmares alone for so long, will they be able find the strength to save each other from the unthinkable?
1. Chapter 1: Tick Tock

_**Hey guys! So this is my first fanfic, so feedback would be awesome! I'll try and update as soon as I get some feedback! :)  
>Right now this is in Peeta's POV but that may change, I haven't decided. <strong>_

_**I do not own The Hunger Games, unfortunately.**_

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree?  
><em>

She's screaming.  
>Every day. Every hour, a new wave of screams reverberate off the cold, damp concrete walls that encase me.<br>Every second. My bones, my muscles, my head. My entire body throbs with pain. I scream, but only a strained whisper whistles from my aching throat. I screamed myself hoarse the first week and never seemed to regain the ability to _really_ scream. But that doesn't stop me from trying. Those controlling my current schedule don't exactly give me a respite period very often, or ever for that matter, for my voice to heal.

I close my eyes and remember the dead.

I almost can't stand to close my eyes when she is screaming, because when I do, my imagination runs away with me. I can't help but visualize what they could possibly be doing to her to make her scream like that. Some of it must be a recording. There is no way she would still have the physical ability to scream like this.

But now, when I close my eyes I am thinking of Wiress. During the Quell, when her throat was slashed, I felt sadness. Fear. Anger. Pity. Now when I think of that moment, I feel envy. Oh, to die quickly. How I wish that was an option for me- for us- now. Or at least _before_ they began this torture regimen.

I can almost hear Wiress's nervous mumbling.

_Tick tock, Peeta. Tick Tock_.  
>I smile and slowly open my waterlogged eyes.<br>_This is not just any clock._

This clock was designed especially for us, Katniss and I.  
>Or maybe it's meant for only her. She <em>is<em> the mockingjay after all. And what am I? Who exactly are they trying to break? What else do we have left that they could possibly use against us? Oh, that's right. We have each other. That is why I wish death would come soon, to one or both of us. Then they would not be able to use us anymore and we can live or die, no, _die- _I wouldn't want to live- in peace.

I've had copious amounts of time to myself to compile a list of the many hardships the capitol has caused me.

They've put me in the Hunger Games.  
>They've crippled me.<br>They've massacred our friends and family, just as they've massacred 23 children every year for the past 75 years: Mercilessly and without remote hesitation.  
>They've cracked open my head, stolen my memories, delicately weaving and re-shaping them into intricate nightmares that consume my entire being.<br>They've turned me into a weapon.  
>A hazard.<br>A pawn.

I am no longer my own. I am theirs. And therefore I am nothing. They have her. Therefore I have nothing.

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree?  
><em>_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee._

Katniss Everdeen is the sole human being I have left in the entire world, and I suppose I must be for her as well, now that _she_ is gone.  
>Prim.<br>Primrose. A single flower, ripped from the earth, engulfed in fire, disintegrating to ash.  
>I didn't actually see Prim die. After about a week or so of being confined to a cell, Snow came and told me himself. He told me that many capitol children also died in the explosions. He claims that the bombs were not capitol created, but engineered by rebel forces. He assures me that he would never waste a drop of innocent capitol citizen blood on purpose. He made me watch extremely graphic videos of unnamed children being blown to bits, some reduced to a thick pink mist. He had peacekeepers inject me with caffeine and attach a contraption to my head that fit between my eyelids, prying them open, not allowing them to close.<p>

"This, Peeta Mellark, is the result of rebellion. This," He gestured to a little girl in a pink polka dot dress with a ribbon in her already dyed purple hair, no older than 5, being blasted into at least 8 different pieces, "Is what Katniss Everdeen had you fighting for"  
>Shiny memories eat at the back of my skull.<p>

I shake this memory, Katniss's screams pulling me back to this cold, dark hell. I choke out a raspy sob.  
>"Katniss"<br>I whisper, cradling my head in my shaking hands. Memories of how she and I came to be in this situation engulf me. My entire body trembles with rage. Rage directed at the one person who is responsible for our capture: Alma Coin.

**So there you have it. Read and review! Give me suggestions! Anything! :) Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Bad News

_**Hello everyone! I decided to write this chapter instead of working on the insane amount of homework that my figure drawing teacher assigned because it is her belief that no one should have a life outside of her class. Oh, the woes of being an art major.  
>Anyways, I hope you like this chapter! This chapter, plus probably one or two more will be a flashback in Peeta's POV about how he and Katniss ended up being captured by the capitol.<br>To all of my reviewers: thank you and keep reviewing! And too all who read this story, review, review, review! I really want to know your opinions/feedback!  
>Anyway, here is Chapter 2!<strong>_

I am back in district 13. Katniss and the rest of the "Star Squad" have been in the capitol filming propos or something for about four or five days now- days that I have spent in training. For what, I have no idea. I'm obviously nowhere near being physically prepared for actual combat, though I have gained a considerable amount of muscle back from my time in the capitol. I still get pretty winded if I walk around 13 for too long. But seeing as I am still having at least one flashback-induced episode every two hours or so, I definitely don't think anybody in their right mind would deem me mentally stable enough to be allowed to carry weapons, let alone use them.

I am lying on my bed in the hospital, muttering to myself like a crazy person. I keep trying without success to recall the exact shape and color of my mother's eyes. But every time I try, a non-shiny memory of a rolling pin hitting the side of my face pops up, distracting me. A murky voice in my head shrieks, _"Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature!"_ before getting all muddled with shiny memories of a child with black hair and red eyes clawing at my face whilst emitting harsh, guttural screams. What did I do to deserve this particular beating, and why is it the only one I can really remember? I am assuming the shiny parts are not real, but then does that mean the whole memory is not real? I am also assuming that the little girl is Katniss, because who else would it be, really?

I shake my head violently, and manage to subdue the sudden surge of hatred and terror that bubble up from the pit of my stomach. The feelings of hatred and fear that usually wash over me feel different this time, however. There is something else mixed in the hate that gnaws at my chest. I rub the spot on my chest where the gnawing seems to be coming from. I think its anxiety. Anxiety, along with a twinge of something else- something I can't quite identify. Dread, maybe.

My pulse is already racing when I hear a harsh knocking on the door. I bolt up to a standing position, poised for attack. I relax a little when I remind myself that I am not in the capitol.

_My name is Peeta Mellark. I was taken by the capitol after the 3__rd__ quarter quell. They injected me with tracker jacker venom. They made me think Katniss Everdeen was trying to kill me. The doctors here tell me that Katniss Everdeen is not trying to kill me. I am still not sure if I believe them. I am in district 13. District 12 is gone. My family is dead. I am in my hospital room. I have blue eyes and blonde hair. I bake-_

Someone opens my door. I am still standing beside my bed with my eyes squeezed shut and my fists clenched in to tight balls. My fingers are turning white. I stretch them out and take a deep breath before opening my eyes rise to meet my visitor. Haymitch peers down at my hands, which are twitching a little as blood starts to rush back into my fingers, then at my eyes, which are a little red and watery from my efforts to calm myself down. He lets out a wary sigh and rubs his temple with his thumb and forefinger. He doesn't move from the doorway.

He stares blankly at the wall behind me when he speaks.

"You're wanted in command, kid." I blink. My stomach drops below my knees. "Now." He locks eyes with me, and I notice the fury and hopelessness etched within them.

I start towards the door, thinking to myself that I am probably not going to be receiving good news. _Someone must be dead_, I think to myself as Haymitch and I walk silently to the small, heavily guarded conference room/ control center that has been being used as the rebel command since their other command center, which was much larger, was destroyed when the capitol bombed 13 in a last ditch attempt to destroy those inside. However, because I warned them during my interview with Caesar, everyone was able to evacuate to a safer location. _You're welcome_, I say inside my head to President Coin, who I am now standing directly in front of.

I wonder if it is Katniss who has been killed. With this thought, a burst of relief fills me, then anger. Then, dread consumes me, overpowering any other emotion. Coin's cold eyes glance up at me from her desk. She shuffles some papers around and pulls something out of her desk drawer before getting up and walking over to me.

"Peeta Mellark, hello. I see you are doing well." Haymitch scoffs and storms out of the room. She doesn't seem to notice or care.

"Will you please present your hand to me?" I lift my arm.

My brow furrows in confusion as she stamps a number onto the back of my hand. I look at my hand to see the number 451 staring boldly back up at me.

Realization hits me square in the stomach and all of the air seems to have left my body. I've seen this number before. I've heard this number before. Squad number 451 is the star squad. _Her_ squad.

_Are you, are you_  
><em>Coming to the tree?<em>  
><em>Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.<em>

I realize that Coin _has_ in fact given me news that someone is dead, or might as well be now that I am to be given weapons and sent to the capitol.

Katniss.  
>And that means that I am to die as well. No one would let me survive if I murdered the mockingjay. I would not let myself survive. I close my eyes. A memory flickers in my mind. A tiny flame that ignites and consumes me.<p>

_"Katniss, it's no use pretending we don't know what the other is trying to do" _The memory is so hazy I can hardly tell where we are. I know, though. I remember. We are on the beach in the arena during the Quell. The memory skips, as if my mind has replayed it so many times that it has become scratched. Damaged.

_"Why are you saying this now?" she is looking at me in the eyes now, her expression impossible to read, but her eyes still intensely bore into my own, seeking answers._

_"Because I don't want you forgetting how different our circumstances are," I take a deep breath. I have been preparing for this conversation for days now. I have rehearsed this thousands of times in my head.  
>Because I can't let her know how just much it actually hurts when I tell her that she has to let me go.<br>"If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You're my whole life," my voice cracks at the end, but I continue, "I would never be happy again."_

_I stop her when she tries to object, her eyes full of hurt and confusion. I keep going. I have to get all of this out now or i'll lose my nerve.  
>"It's different for you. I'm not saying that it wouldn't be hard. But there are other people who'd make your life worth living."<em>

_I show her the locket with the photos of her mother, Prim, and Gale. Gale.  
>"Your family needs you, Katniss"<br>My chest is aching. I feel like with every word I say, a new piece is ripped from my heart. It takes all of me to continue when I think I see a hint of understanding in her expression. Amidst the hurt and confusion, I see longing weave its way into her eyes. I take the pieces ripped from my chest and offer them to her in the form of a future. A future that I would be unable to have if she were dead. I would have lost the person with whom I am the closest to, with whom I have shared so much. Her family would fall apart. I would never be able to look at Prim again without wanting to die. My family however, I knew could handle the death of their youngest. I do not mean as much to them as Katniss means to Prim. "No one really needs me," I admit honestly. _

_The look of determination and pain on her face when her eyes penetrate mine is clear._

The memory becomes too hazy. I struggle to remember what happened next. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself back to the beach. Back beside her.  
><em>Real or not real? <em> I force myself back to the room where Coin has just sentencedme to death.  
>No, not me.<br>Katniss.  
>Katniss is going to die and I am to be the one to kill her.<p>

Shiny memories begin to flash through my head as I erupt into the full-blown, rampaging mutt that the capitol has created. Screams of rage rip through my chest as several men tackle me to the ground. I claw, kick, scream, bite. I can feel every vein in my body bulging and pulsating with strain. Someone jabs a needle into my neck. My body starts to relax. My eyelids get heavy. My eyes find Coin. She is looking down at me, a victorious smile stretched across her face. Her seam grey eyes leave mine and she gestures to one of the men guarding the door. Grey eyes? Everything is shiny now. Her body distorts and a black braid shoots out of her head. Her eyes turn red and she bears her fangs. I fight it with every ounce of strength I have left. Everything is starting to become less shiny. Coin morphs again and is looking something like a cross between herself and the Katniss of my nightmares. My eyelids become even heavier

Before I pass out, I hear her speak to the guard. Her sounds muffled and cloudy, but I can just make out her request.

"Get Snow on the phone. Let him know that once Mr. Mellark arrives in the capitol we will continue our negotiation."

I am plunged into blackness.

When I awaken, I am strapped to a chair in a hovercraft.

I am on my way to the capitol.

**I'll try and get chapter 3 up as soon as I can. Thank you all for reading!  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Hovercraft

*****I have already posted this chapter, I know, but I fixed/added a few things i couldn't add right away because of not being able to log-in*****

**Hello everyone! Sorry it took so long to update! I had to catch up on some homework, then I went home for the weekend and accidentally left Mockingjay in my apartment. Thanks to all who have read/favorited/reviewed and added this story to their story alerts! It's gotten so many hits! :)**

**So anyways here's chapter 3!**

**This chapter and the next will continue to be Peeta's flashback.**

My eyes are still trying to focus as they move around the cabin. Blurry figures are darting around the small room, speaking quickly, muttering instructions to the two men standing on either side of me, both of whom seem to be ignoring them. A woman with a high pitched, squeaky voice chimes in loudly all of a sudden, causing them to jerk slightly before resuming their annoyed attitudes.

"When we drop you off at destination 1a, you are to get the boy to destination 1b as soon as possible. The president wants the boy to get to squad 451 without being seen,"

The man to my right nods grudgingly and the woman continues, "He will not be restrained. If he resists, or starts to show signs of an 'attack' you are to inject him with this," she hands the man to my left a syringe filled with a clear blue liquid, "otherwise the only restraints that are to be used are your own hands. The president was adamant about this particular detail. Squad 451 must see that he has not been restrained."

"Yes, _rebel_ Sargent Lennox" The man on the right sneers.

Why does he sound so..disgusted?

I study the men.

Their familiarity troubles me. Why do I feel like I should know who or what these men are?

The first thing I notice is their size. They have to be over 6 feet tall at the least, and the one to my left looks like he could be over 300 pounds.

The second thing I notice is their uniform.

White.

Peacekeeper white.

Peacekeepers.

My heartbeat quickens as I struggle to remember the events that occurred prior to my passing out. I had almost remembered something. No, I had remembered something. It may not have been an entire memory, but it was enough. I am sure now that when I was on the arena beach during the Quell, I had been in love with Katniss Everdeen. I was so in love that I was going to die so that she could have a future with someone else.

I remember during the first few weeks of treatment, the doctors in thirteen showed me that exact scene, along with many other scenes of Katniss and I sharing intimate moments. But then, it was like I was watching strangers act out scenes from a movie. Now, I can actually remember.

I not only remember the words we exchanged, the actions we made.

I remember the feelings. How the salty wind felt on my face, how the grittiness of the sand felt beneath my toes. How the locket felt slippery between my fingers due to both my nervousness and the humidity.

I remember the emotions. The desperation and longing displayed openly on her face when I gave her the locket.

I remember the pain. The pain in my heart.

The pain in her eyes when I told her no one needed me. She looked so sad, then, so determined.

My heartbeat quickens as images start to flash across my eyes, so I squeeze them shut, letting the rest of the memory come to me.

_She looks deep into my eyes. The pain that is pooling in them is causing my chest to fill with anguish. I can't hold her gaze._

_"I do", she says quietly, inching closer. She clamps her hands around my head, forcing me to look straight into her beautiful grey eyes._

_"I need you" she says louder now, her voice cracking with emotion. Determined._

_My heart soars, and then shatters like a firework. I have no right to hope. She is only saying that to make me feel better. She doesn't mean it. There is no way that she would choose my life over Prim's. Her mother's. Gale's._

_Gale._

_I begin voice all of these thoughts when she pulls my face to hers and her lips crash onto mine. I start to lose my nerve immediately, and eventually give in to the overwhelming sense of want that overcomes me. I don't care if she is pretending. I don't care if she doesn't mean it. I don't care that I am going to die so that she can be with another man._

_I am going to die._

_And therefore I am going to kiss her. I am going to pretend that there are no cameras. I am going to pretend that she wants this too. I am going to pretend that she is mine, because I am hers._

_Forever._

_We jolt apart at the sudden crack of the lightning hitting the tree at midnight. Finnick wakes up and I lead Katniss to the others so that she can sleep while Finnick goes on watch duty. I place the locket around her neck, and remember the baby. The baby that I wish more than anything in the world was real. She would be able to have a piece of me with her forever. I place my shaking hands on her stomach, imagining the baby that I hope one day she would have, that I hope one day she would love._

_"You're going to make a great mother, you know"_

_I kiss her, and make my way over to Finnick, hoping she didn't notice the tears threatening to spill over onto my flushed cheeks._

_I take a deep breath and sit down next to Finnick, a familiar wave of determination filling me up. The same determination I felt when I was reaped. The same determination I felt when we were in the arena standing on metal plates waiting to fight. The same determination I felt when Snow announced the Quarter Quell. _

_It is the same determination that I have felt ever since I risked a beating to give her bread._

_I watch as little waves lap up the shore, then disappear back into sea, leaving a shimmering impression of where it had washed over the grainy sand. A signature._

The images start to blur and sink into blackness. A string of thoughts pass through my mind before the memory goes black.

_I am not going to let her die._

_I am __**going**__ to protect her._

_And there is nothing she or anyone else can do about it._

I am panting when I open my eyes. My heart is pounding furiously against my chest and my entire body is trembling.

I feel it now. Pain, sadness, determination.

Something that may be love.

But I also feel deep, deep hatred. Hatred of myself for becoming such a monster. Hatred of the Capitol for making me this monster. Hatred of Katniss for just giving up on me instead of trying to make me better.

A new, stronger wave of anguish and hatred consumes me.

Katniss.

Katniss.

_Katniss._

I fight back the barrage of shiny memories that begin to surface.

_Katniss_, decked out in a tightly fitting peacekeeper uniform, brandishes a sword. She is going to cut me.

_Katniss_, her eyes blood read and menacing, screaming that she wants me to die so that she can be with Gale without feeling guilty.

_Katniss_, her fangs bared, ripping the locket off of her neck and strangling me with it.

_Katniss_, telling me over and over that she does not and will never love or care about me as she stabs me repeatedly in the chest with a knife.

I start to struggle and scream violently, the thick leather cuffs binding me to the wall of the hovercraft start to cut into my wrists and I cry out. The pain brings me back, sharpening my focus. I am panting heavily as my eyes dart around the room, but I do not see shiny Katniss anywhere. I silently curse myself. Can I not have just one memory that isn't followed by shiny ones? Everyone in the cabin is staring at me.

The peacekeepers beside me are looking down at me with curiosity.

They are grinning.

Hatred and disgust bubble up inside if me again, but this time it is directed at them. I stare ahead of me, refusing to meet their gaze.

I look over to the small, circular window on the wall opposite me. It is rimmed with dirt and grime, but I am still able to see through it. This hovercraft must have been out of use for some time. And judging by the interior, this is most definitely an old capitol hovercraft.

In thirteen, part of training included attending classes on the history of thirteen. One class focused mainly on the different models of hovercrafts used by both the capitol and thirteen over the past 75 years. It was an extremely boring class that I assumed was pointless and would never in any way be relevant to me in combat or in any situation for that matter. Apparently I was wrong.

However I was right about how knowing how to recognize different hovercraft models would not _help_ me in any way, because I am still trapped in this situation with no ideas on how to get out of it.

I watch through the window as the hovercraft stops above a spacious, very empty capitol city square. The colorful, oddly shaped shops, tall apartment buildings, and futuristic homes all seem to have been abandoned by their inhabitants long before the rebels first infiltrated the capitol. Doors lay open, some hanging off their hinges. Brightly colored fliers, feathers, and stray garbage roll in clumps through the barren streets like the tumbleweed that blow through the ruins of thirteen. Layers of dust coat the shop windows, the multicolored mannequins that have been stripped of their clothes barely visible.

The larger peacekeeper begins to undo the leather straps as the other opens the hovercraft doors and lowers the ladder. They each grab one of my arms and force me down onto the ladder, into the square, to a nearby train station, and onto a capitol train.

They sit on either side of me the entire time, as if I can escape. As if there is any place for me to run besides somewhere else on this train, which, by the way, is only one car long and traveling extremely fast. I don't have to feel anxious for long though. The train ride is very short, maybe fifteen minutes. I'm assuming we only traveled along the outskirts of the capitol from one side to another, but I'm not entirely sure. They shut the curtains when we entered our compartment and wouldn't let me open them during the entire ride.

As we prepare to exit the train, one of the peacekeepers reaches under one of the seats, pulls out a gun, and shoves it into my arms. As they push me out of the train and onto the platoform, the large one finally speaks. His voice is deep, but I can still make out a faint capitol accent.

"Your squad will be waiting for you outside of the station." He gives a mischievous grin to his partner and mutters something else to me under his breath as I make my way towards the doors to the station. As I open the doors and swing the gun strap over my shoulder, his words register in my brain.

"Give my regards to President Snow, Mellark"

I don't have time to react, however, because the small crowd awaiting my arrival is in an uproar. They rush around me, taking my gun and checking the number on my hand.

I lock eyes with a very real and very angry Katniss Everdeen.

And this Katniss is not shiny.

_Real or not real?_

**Sorry that this is a little short, and may be considered a filler, but I am still not entirely sure which point Peeta and Katniss should be captured. I'm thinking right before they make it to Tigris's or right after they leave, but I'm not sure. Give me some suggestions!**

**And as always, review review!**


	4. Chapter 4: The First Night

**Hi everyone! I figured since it's a "snow day" where I live, I would treat you all to a relatively long post. I've decided to just continue on with this flashback for an indefinite number of chapters. It may be one more, it may be 5 more, who knows. (To reviewer 'Rain') I really enjoy writing Peeta's perspective through Mokingjay, so I am glad it is working for you. If anyone feels that Peeta is starting to get OOC, let me know!**

**Big thank you's to those who reviewed/favorited/read this story!**

**Here is chapter 4!**

I can tell that everyone is upset over Coin's decision to put me in the 'Star Squad', and I don't blame them one bit. Boggs is downright furious, leaving immediately to call Coin. I listen as the group argues with each other as if I'm not even there.

"Why would The President put our squad in jeopardy like this!"

"He's going to ruin everything!"

"He's going to get us all killed!"

I stand off to the side awkwardly twiddling my thumbs and trying to avoid their glares.

When Boggs returns, he looks absolutely livid. He whispers something to Katniss and the two leave the group, weaving through the camp until they are too far to be overheard.

His second in command, Soldier Jackson, sets up a two-person guard to watch me at all times.

Finnick almost immediately volunteers to be on first watch, but no one else seems interested. They all stare at me warily as I slump into a nearby folding chair. I lean back and cross my arms over my chest as if none of this is bothering me.

As if the fact that they are treating me like a pariah doesn't piss me off.

I can't blame them for being so angry, but I'm not going to lie, it definitely hurts.

I have either been sent here to kill Katniss, which is a very real possibility at this point if she keeps looking at me like a serial killer, or for some other reason that only President Coin and her confidants are aware of. I have a sickly feeling that this situation favors the latter. What did the peacekeeper mean when he said "Give my regards to President Snow"?

Did he think squad 451 was going to make it all the way to the president's mansion? Did he think the rebels would be victorious?

For some reason I don't think that is the case.

When am I going to stop being used?

I rub my temple and take a deep breath.

I can't think about Coin's motives right now or at all. Not as long as I am in the Capitol.

Not as long as I am so close to Katniss.

I have to focus all of my energy in keeping sane and pushing back the flashbacks that are constantly teeming in the back of my head.

Because Katniss Everdeen cannot die. I will not let myself kill her. I can't. Even though her blatant hostility towards me is making me question both my sense of reality and my sanity.

I calmly sit up and begin setting up my tent, walking far enough away and turning my face from the others so that they wont be able to see the hurt and anger in my eyes. I want to tell them I am sorry. That I didn't ask for this.

I didn't ask for any of it.

The only one that seems to realize this is Finnick, who is looking over at me with what I can only describe as pity.

Instead of comforting me, this just makes me even more frustrated.

Katniss and Boggs return, and she and Jackson begin to argue over whether or not she should be allowed to be on Peeta watch, as I now refer to my round-the-clock two-man gaurd. They are all pretty far away, but I can still hear them. The streets are so empty, their voices echo slightly, allowing me to hear every bit of their conversation.

"I'm not sure you could really shoot Peeta, if it came down to it" I hear Jackson say hesitantly. I turn my face slightly so that I can see them in the corner of my eye and so that I can hear a little better. Katniss's retort is surprisingly loud. Almost like she _wants_ me to hear her.

"I wouldn't be shooting Peeta. He is gone," I choke back the anger and hurt that boils up when I hear her say, "Johanna's right. It'd be just like shooting another of the Capitol's mutts."

My hands tremble with rage and I have to use everything I have to fight back the downpour of shiny memories.

Mutts.

Mutt.

Katniss is a mutt.

_No, I am a mutt._

I breathe heavily, regaining focus.

_She hates me_. _I am a monster, and she hates me._

As I become steadily calmer, I decide that I will not let myself care that she hates me. In fact, it will just make the fact that I am more than likely going to die during all this easier for her.

In fact, in that moment, I hated _her_. I hated them all.

To them, I am nothing but an unwanted, vicious Capitol mutt.

To them, I am better off dead.

The dinner whistle sounds, making me jump a little. Everyone makes their way to a meager buffet table and the cooks sent over from thirteen begin to serve them their designated portion of food. I wait a few seconds before joining them.

We eat in a quiet circle. I assume that I am the cause of tension, so I keep my eyes on the bowl of soup I am devouring. Throughout the meal, I can feel the group's eyes darting between Katniss and me. I want to scream at them- at her. To tell them that this isn't my fault. To tell them how much I hate myself. To tell them that I don't understand how they could hate me so much, when I didn't ask for any of this.

When I finish my soup, I glance up at her. She is eating her soup, a familiar scowl darkening her face. She pauses for a second, and then she looks up at me, her seam grey eyes piercing my own. I stare at her blankly. I will not let her see how much I hated her at this moment. Her grey eyes flit away quickly, but not before I see the sadness and anger etched within them. Her brow knits together and her scowl deepens.

After dinner, I quietly excuse myself to get ready for bed. They told me that I had to sleep outside in an open area. This doesn't bother me, but I am a little angry they let me go through the trouble of setting up a tent.

After rummaging through a supply tent for ten minutes, Finnick finds me a thick sleeping bag and a very lumpy, old pillow. He and Jackson are on Peeta-watch tonight. I mutter a "Thanks" before I lay the bag down in the most open area I can find, climb inside, and flip over to lay on my back. The ground is hard and I am uncomfortable, but I am not planning on sleeping tonight. When I sleep, I have nightmares. When I have nightmares, they are usually about Katniss killing me. When I have nightmares about Katniss killing me, I tend to wake up wanting to kill her.

And I am _not_ going to kill her

I look up at the stars, straining to keep my eyes open, constantly tapping my leg. I need something to do besides lay here. Finnick notices my restlessness. He comes and sits next to me. He is holding a short length of rope and twisting it nervously in his hands.

"Is it hard?" he asks, first looking down at the ground, then at me.

"Is what hard?" I ask, still staring up at the dark sky.

"Being around her like this. When you are both so angry and when you are so broken. Being here, in the place where they tainted you, with her. Knowing that you could kill her at any moment. Knowing that you love her." He says all of this staring right at me. I sit up in my sleeping bag and cross my legs.

"I do not love her," I quickly answer. I try not to let the pain and irritation show.

"But nevertheless, yes, it is hard. Impossible, even."

I stare down at the ground.

"I'm just so angry all of the time. At everything, at everyone," I look up at Finnick, who is slowly nodding in understanding.

"I'm angry at Snow for making me this way and ruining everything I had, at Katniss for not even caring- for never _really_ caring, at everyone here for treating me like I'm some sort of beast," my voice has risen and is thick with rage. I check myself and quietly continue, "I'm the most angry at myself for becoming this- this _monster_"

He opens his mouth to protest, but the look on my face causes him to shut it and look down at his hands.

We both sit quietly for a while, both of us lost in our own thoughts. He stops twisting the rope and holds it out to me.

"Take this. This kept me sane while they had Annie- while they had all of you." I slowly take the rope from him and study it loosely. "When I could feel myself about to break down, I would tie knots. It kept me together- soothed me."

I look down and twist the rope a little in my hands. "Thank you, Finnick. For listening, you know. And for the rope."

"No problem, Peeta," he claps me on the shoulder and stand up to go back to his post. "You know, no matter how you see yourself now, you have to admit that you've recovered a LOT since we first got you back."

He gives me a halfhearted grin and one of his signature winks, then walks back over to where Jackson is slumped in a chair.

For an hour or so I lay quietly, tying inexperienced knots over and over again, allowing myself to think of only the task at hand.

I hear a slight rustling off to my right and see that someone has taken Finnick's place on Peeta-watch.

It's Katniss.

She is sitting on a stool next to Jackson, her fingers fumbling in her lap as she stares at them awkwardly. I watch her for at least an hour, but she keeps her eyes fixed on her hands. For some reason the fact that she can't even look at me infuriates me. Does she truly hate me _that _much? That she can't even stand to look at me? I'm sick of playing games. I want to know what's real.

So I provoke her.

"These last couple of years must have been exhausting for you. Trying to figure out whether to kill me or not. Back and forth. Back and forth."

She looks up at the sound of my voice, both shocked and defensive at my accusation. She takes a deep breath and her face evens. She averts her eyes to the ground beside me.

"I never wanted to kill you. Except when I thought you were helping the Careers kill me. After that I always thought of you as… an ally." She nods to herself once as if to confirm that she had chosen the right words.

Ally? This word confuses me even more. That's all I was to her? An ally?

"Ally. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancée. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I'll add it to the list of words I use to try and figure you out." I weave the rope in between my fingers, fighting back the shiny memories that try to surface.

Not here. Not now.

"The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up." My hands are shaking now with the effort of keeping away the flashbacks. The anger that is swelling inside me isn't helping.

I hear Finnick's voice echo from the shadows.

"Then you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does."

"Ask who?" I retort. "Who can I trust?" _Everyone here thinks I'm a monster and my entire family is dead._

Jackson has joined the conversation now. "Well, us for starters. We're your squad."

I scoff. "You're my guards"

"That, too," she says. "But you saved a lot of lives in Thirteen. It's not the kind of thing we forget."

And I believe her.

I remember something someone once tried to explain to me about owing someone. Something Katniss tried to explain to me when we were in the cave in the first arena, after she got back from the feast. The memory itself is a little hazy, but I am able to get the gist of it. Thirteen, like Katniss, must hold paying back debts at a very high standard. I warned them about the bombing of thirteen, so now they owe me something. I wonder if Katniss feels the same way…I mean, my warning also saved her life.

Her mother's life.

Prim's life.

Can I trust her? Will she tell me the truth? Because I am owed at least that. My anger starts to fade. The shiny memories become easier to conquer.

A tiny memory pops into my head. It's so small it probably doesn't even matter. But I have to know if it is real. I turn to Katniss, looking her straight in the eyes.

"You're favorite color… it's green?" I ask hesitantly.

She slowly nods. "That's right. And yours is orange."

Orange. "Orange?" That doesn't seem right. I look at the glaring orange tents distributed throughout the campsite, tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes at an attempt to remember why on earth I would like such a loud and obnoxious color.

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset." She looks up at me for confirmation. "At least, that's what you told me once."

"Oh." I close my eyes and think about it for a second. I conjure up a sunset in my mind, the oranges, pinks, reds, and blues all melting together. I decide that she was right. I do like this color- it's warm. I open my eyes and look at her. "Thank you."

Her eyes grow wide with hope and memories as more facts about me spill eagerly from her mouth. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your show laces." Her widened eyes linger on me for a moment and I can almost make out the faint blush on her olive cheeks. She quickly gets up and darts into her tent before either of can say another word.

I sit up in my sleeping bag, baffled, staring after her. I look back down at my rope and begin twisting it absentmindedly. I make knots for a few hours, trying to make sense of all of the things Katniss said I did and who she said I was. I rack my brain for memories of the past. I am surprised at how little effort it takes me to remember. I guess un-tampered memories are easier to recall.

_I never take sugar in my tea, and I always double-knot my shoelaces._

I have no idea if the first thing is real, seeing as I haven't had tea since before the Quell. I look down my sleeping bag at the shoes still on my feet and see that they are in fact double-knotted. Real.

_I am a painter_.

Real. Part of my therapy in Thirteen was painting. I mostly only painted gruesome images of Katniss slaughtering me in hundreds of different ways, but it was therapy, and even though the images terrified me to paint, I found the action soothing. Eventually they let me bake and decorate Finnick and Annie's wedding cake. I remember icing all of the cakes in my family's bakery. I also remember excelling at the camouflage station in the training center.

_I am a baker._

Real. I remember snippets of growing up in my family's bakery. I remember my father teaching me how to knead dough. I remember my mother instructing me on the correct temperature and baking times. I remember my father showing me how to make a lily out of icing, and how he proudly patted me on the back when mine turned out better than his example. I remember my brothers, both older than me, taking the blame when I would knead the dough too thin or burn cookies when I was just starting to learn the ropes. They weren't there the night I burnt the bread for Katniss though.

Katniss. Was she the only person I really had now? Or am I so broken that she will never want anything to do with me. Am I alone now? Now that my family is dead?

I have to gulp down the sudden surge of grief I feel for them.

My mother.

My brothers.

_My father._

I squeeze my eyes shut and take deep breaths, twisting the rope vigorously until most of it passes, leaving nothing but a lingering feeling of emptiness.

My entire body feels too heavy. I have to struggle to keep my eyes open.

The sun begins to peak over the horizon as I finally allow myself to fall asleep.

**Thank you all for reading, and if you have any suggestions or comments, you know what to do! (Review review review!) I'll try to get a new chapter out as soon as I can. Preferably after I get some more reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5: The Black Rose

_**Hello everybody!  
>So the flashback chapters are done for right now, and we are back to Peeta's point of view while he is imprisoned in the Capitol.<br>**_**_I'm going to be going back and forth between flashbacks and the present from this point on for the sake of the plot. :) I may even do next chapter in Katniss's POV. Review and tell me what you think I should do! Anyways thanks to all who reviewed! Keep reviewing! And to those who haven't, review! :)_**

**_Here's Chapter 5!_**

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree  
><em>_Where I told you to run so we'd both be free_

The screaming has finally stopped, and I have calmed down some. I'm a little shocked at the sudden burst of fury that passed through me when I thought of Coin. I had forgotten what anger felt like. The only thing I've felt for a long time now is emptiness. Emptiness and fear.

Although I don't hear the usual whimpering that follows one of these sessions, I can still hear the screaming. This happens every time. Even when it stops, I can hear it. Her screams have been permanently branded into my head. I hear her cry out in pain. I hear her beg and plead for whoever has her to let her go- to stop. It hurts. I hear her screaming Prim's name. Finnick's name. Gale's name. My name.

I always lose it when I hear her scream my name.

The anguish and pain I hear in her voice has been injected into me, infusing into my bloodstream, causing me to be in a perpetual state of the same anguish and pain. Unlike with the tracker jacker venom though, I have no will to fight off these episodes. These episodes are different. Worse. Instead of fury I feel terror. Absolute terror. They last so much longer, too.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

Years.

Decades.

Centuries.

I have no will to fight them off. I let the terror consume me, paralyzing me. I scream. I scream because she screams. I scream because she isn't here to bring me back to reality, to sanity.

But there is no reality for us anymore, is there? There is no such thing as sanity here.

There are only nightmares.

The door to the concrete room that I am being kept in opens abruptly, causing me wince violently. Is it her? Are they finally bringing her to me? Is it all going to end soon? I want it to. I want it so, so badly. I just want the pain to stop. I want her pain to stop.

Ha. Like they'd actually let me see her.

I've almost come to terms with the fact that I will probably never see Katniss Everdeen again for the rest of my life, which is probably going be ending sooner rather than later. If not at the hands of Snow, then I'm sure I'll eventually die of insanity.

Can one die of insanity?

Probably not. If that were the case I'd have died the first time I was captured by the Capitol. Maybe if I continue to scream as hard as I do, I'll burst a vein in my neck or have an aneurysm or something.

Oh, to dream.

My eyes have trouble adjusting to the light coming from the open door. It's a dim light, but to me it's like staring directly into the sun. It feels like I have been lying in this blackness for years. The episodes make time go by so much slower.

A figure is standing in the doorway. I can tell that it is female, but it is not her- not Katniss. I can tell by her silhouette this woman is too well fed to be Katniss. That is, if they've been feeding her as infrequently as they've been feeding me. Sometimes the only scrap of food I see for days is a rotten piece of fruit. During a good week, I may get one or two meals a day- usually consisting of a fist-sized bowl of tan mush that I think is supposed to be rice and beans.

So if the screaming is actually real and they _have_ been torturing her as much as they make it sound, along with not feeding her, she probably looks emaciated. Starving. Not like this woman, who is thick and muscular.

When my eyes finally adjust, I see that my visitor is garbed in a long white coat and black pants. Her hair is navy blue and tied in a tight ponytail at the top of her skull. She has something on her pale skin that makes it shimmer, like she belongs in one of my tracker jacker flashbacks. She doesn't say a word.

She quickly walks over to me and takes me by the arm. Her hand is almost able to completely encircle it. I let her stand me up and lead me over to the door. I notice she isn't armed, but I guess I'm not exactly a threat in my current state.

When we first arrived, I still had some muscle on me from training. I fought back when they tried to take me. It took five people to hold me down so they could sedate me.

Now, however, I don't fight back. There is nothing left. No energy.

No family.

No Katniss.

I have nothing, and I am nothing.

The woman drags me through a long, dark hallway lined with 2 rows of barred cells, their inhabitants too weak to move from their various positions on the floor.

Katniss is not in any of these cells.

I know because ever since we first arrived and they began the torture regimen, I've had to walk down this hallway. I've looked in every cell, at every prisoner's face. A few of the prisoners looked back at me.

Ones that I knew.

Most of them are gone now. Dead. They've escaped this hell.

Tigris, the woman who was hiding us when we were captured, was killed within the first week.

Cressida too.

They were going to torture her for information using a modern version of what people used to call an "electric chair", but they set the electricity to high, or there was a glitch or something. She ended up basically melting into the chair. They made me watch the whole thing.

I overheard a guard say Pollux was killed in front of Katniss about a month after our capture.  
>Sliced into tiny bits until he finally bled out.<br>slowly.

Apparently Katniss sang to him. "The Hanging Tree". The guard said she managed to get out a few verses before they finally sedated her. I didn't let the guards see, but I remember smiling when I heard how brave she was.

Gale however, somehow got away during the capture. I have no idea if he survived his escape, though. If he had, surely he would have tried to get us out of here a long time ago, wouldn't he? Or at least tried to save Katniss? Wouldn't he?

_Katniss._

She was not there, in the hallway of cells. Probably being kept in a room similar to my own. So now, instead of searching the broken faces of the prisoners, hoping to find who I know is not there, I just close my eyes and allow the woman to lead me to my destination.

We arrive at a vaguely familiar metal black door. She punches a quick code into a number pad in the center. I hear a click and she opens the door and shoves me inside. I am almost blinded, just as I was the one other time I was brought here, when snow made me watch the Capitol children die, by the blinding white of the walls and floor. The room is completely empty except for a long back table positioned in the center of the room. Two black metal chairs sit on either end.

I'm surprised that none of them have restraints.

But then again, I'm not a threat anymore, right?

Right.

I notice that a black, long stemmed rose sits eerily in a glass vase at the center of the table. It must be one of the capitol, genetically altered roses. No rose could ever naturally be _that_ black. It makes the table it is sitting on look almost gray.

A black rose.

This must be it, then. The end. They must have killed her already. That's why the screaming stopped so suddenly. That's why I didn't hear the whimpering. She has to be gone.

Dead.

She has escaped this hell.

I smile to myself. It feels uncomfortable, painful even.

I don't care though. Katniss is dead, and soon I will be to. I welcome the pain. I feel almost giddy. I am going to see her again.

_I'll see you soon, _I think to myself.

I think of home.

I'll see them all soon.

Soon. It has to be soon.

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree  
><em>_Wear a necklace of rope side by side with me_

"Peeta Mellark."

I blink at the sound of the familiar voice calling my name, followed by the sickly sweet smell of roses and blood. At first, I am filled with dread. But then I remember.

_Soon. It has to be soon._

President Snow enters the room and quietly shuts the door behind him, a leering smile spreading slowly across his gaunt, snake-like features. I do not speak. I stopped speaking to anyone but myself months ago. He smiles even wider at my silence.

"Why don't you take a seat?" He gestures to one of the chairs and I quickly sit down. He walks over to the chair on the other end of the table and gingerly takes a seat. He clears his throat to speak.

"Tomorrow evening, I am going to be hosting a very special party," he folds his ands on the table and looks me straight in the eyes. "_Miss Everdeen_ and yourself are to be in attendance."

I wince. She is not dead. Of course she is not dead. Why would they kill her in private when they could shatter any meager traces of rebellion by executing her in public? By executing _us_ in public. Or maybe something worse.

My eyes close.

Even in death, we belong to them.

We are nothing but pawns.

"I am not going to kill either of you, Mr. Mellark. At least, not yet." His smile disappears. "Tomorrow morning, a prep team will be arriving to make you a bit more… presentable... for the party. I can't very well have you looking like a deranged invalid for the cameras!" He laughs.

I stare at him in disbelief. Prep team? Party? It all sounds so... wrong.

He looks down at his watch and stands up.

"Well, Mr. Mellark. I shall see you tomorrow evening, and I hope that you will try to be on your _best_ behavior," he pauses, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "We don't anyone to get hurt anymore than they already have, isn't that right, Mr. Mellark?"

_Katniss._

_He means Katniss._

"Y-yes," I manage to choke out. The raspy sound of my voice startles me. His smile widens.

He makes his way to the door. "Good. Good. And Mr. Mellark," he pauses at the door, "I have left something waiting for you in your chambers. We don't want you making any big scenes tomorrow evening, do we?"

He sneers down at me before exiting the room.

My heart races and panic sets in.

The comfort that I had found in being reunited with Katniss in death has been blown to bits. She is alive. They still have her. They are still hurting her.

I start to hyperventilate as my entire body begins to tremble. I am frozen in my chair. The terror is seeping into me through the cold metal.

What is waiting for me in my room? Some sort of drug to sedate me enough to where I can't make any sort of scene at his stupid party? Some sort of torture device to scare me into silence?

The woman with the shiny skin comes back in and tries to lift me out of the chair under my armpits.  
>I start to scream in earnest now, because the shininess of her skin combined with the blinding white room is making me think I am having a tracker jacker flashback, and then I actually start to <em>have<em> tracker jacker flashbacks.

_Katniss, scratching at my face with her claws. Katniss, violently lunging at my throat with her teeth. Katniss, kicking me in the face until all of my bones are broken and it is mush._

All of a sudden the nightmares take a horrifying turn.

_Katniss, being ripped apart by wolf-mutts. Katniss, being cut up into tiny pieces until the pool of blood around her stains the entire expanse of the white floor. Katniss, jerking and convulsing in a tall chair as too much electricity passes through her body, her skin and hair turning black and melting into the metal until all I can recognize are her eyes. Her dead, gray eyes. _

I am on the floor, screaming and convulsing violently as the nightmares send waves of excruciating pain throughout my entire body.

Someone jabs me with a needle and my muscles immediately relax and I am plunged again into darkness.

I groan.

My entire body aches like it usually does after a particularly bad episode. I lay on the familiar cold concrete of my cell for a little longer, slowly regaining the energy to open my heavy eyelids.

When I am finally able to open my eyes, I see I am staring up at the ceiling. Someone has installed a tiny light. It's extremely dim, only casting light on the center of the room, but it's a light.

Was this was Snow was talking about when he said he left something for me? A light?

I squeeze my eyes shut and open them wide a few times to get ride of the remaining fuzziness surrounding my vision. Then I slowly begin to sit up, resting back on my elbows, looking around the room.

And then I gasp, because all of the air has been sucked from my lungs.

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe because I can see a pair of eyes staring at me from the shadows.

A pair of wide, wild seam-gray eyes.

_Her_ eyes.

_Katniss._

"P-Peeta?"

Thats the last thing I hear before I pass out.

**_Sorry for the cliffhanger! I'll get Chapter 6 out ASAP :) I can tell you right now, be prepared for a little fluff... but not too much. I mean it is Katniss after all, plus they are in a very scary situation. But nevertheless, there will be some nice Peeta/Katniss interraction. Reviews motivate me to write faster!... :)  
>Thanks for reading! <em>**


	6. Chapter 6: Blind Sided

_**Hey guys! So I decided to go back and re-write most of chapter 6. I was kind of in a hurry while writing it and feeling a little blocked. You guys deserve much better writing than that! So I re-wrote most of the chapter, adding/deleting a few things. So hopefully this version is better and encourages you to keep reading/reviewing/favoriting, etc! Enjoy!**_

_Katniss_

I awake with a jolt.

The last thing I remember was not being able to breathe. I must have passed out from the lack of oxygen.

I also remember hearing someone whisper my name.

No, not just someone.

_Katniss_

I sit up, my eyes frantically searching the shadows. It must have been a dream. Some drug induced illusion. A trick of the eye.

But, nevertheless, on the opposite side of the room halfway shrouded in shadows, there is a girl standing in front of me. She is standing completely still except for shallow up-and-down movement of her chest. My eyes travel from her filthy bare feet up what is left of her body. The pale blue shorts and white t-shirt she is wearing are stained with blood and grime, the shorts too big around her waist. She has had to fashion a belt from the bottom rim of her shirt, which hangs heavily on her boney shoulders, as if it is the only thing preventing her from evaporating.

My eyes linger on her neck before hesitantly traveling up to her face. Her lips are cracked and bloody, and her cheekbones are much more prominent than they once were, which only adds to the gauntness of her face. My eyes trace a semi-faded scar that runs from the top of her lips to her left eye.

_Her eyes._

I hesitate before getting to her eyes, terrified of what I might find in them. Will they be the red, shiny eyes I see in my nightmares? Will they be filled with hatred and anger? Or will they be filled with pain and loss? Eventually I give in, and when our eyes lock, my heart drops down into my empty stomach.

Her once lively gray eyes look into mine blankly. They are no longer full of courage and rebellion. They are no longer full of fire.

They are cold.

Hollow.

Empty.

Detached.

They are the eyes of someone who has given up.

There is something else different about them, though. Something about the color that makes me feel uneasy. The iris of her left eye is a different color than the right. Instead of the usual stormy gray, her left eye is a light gray, like the color of snow clouds, and the entire eye looks clouded over. It stares at me with a different kind of blankness. A different kind of emptiness.

I remember my grandmother. She died at a very old age, a small miracle in District Twelve. A year or so before she passed, her once dark blue eyes lightened, and her pupils became misty and far away. She was no longer allowed to do anything by herself. She had gone blind.

_Blind._

The Capitol has partially blinded Katniss Everdeen. They have taken away part of her most valued sense: her sense of sight. The sense that she has relied on more than any other during the many times she has had to fight for her life, as well as the lives of her loved ones. By partially blinding her, along with killing most of the people she cared about, the Capitol has crippled Katniss Everdeen in ways they could have only dreamed about.

The old Katniss, the beautiful, strong huntress, who sparked a revolution and went on to lead a rebellion, is dead. The Capitol has killed her. She has left behind an empty shell of her former self. A distant echo. A pile of ash.

She slowly begins to walk over to me, her gaze steady, as if in a trance. I start to back away. This Katniss is so much more terrifying to me than the Katniss of my nightmares. She is so broken. I am so broken.

We are so broken.

I'm not sure if any of this is real. Why would Snow do this now, after a year of wasting away in this cell, wanting nothing but to see her? Why would he wait until I remembered the real Katniss, _my _Katniss, only to show me the new Katniss- the Capitol's latest creation? I have to fight back the shiny memories that are threatening to swallow me whole. _She's a mutt. They've turned her into a mutt._

_No._

I won't let them have this moment. Even this is part of some trauma-induced episode, I won't let shiny memories ruin this.

She stops in front of where I am now leaning against the wall and kneels down. Our faces are mere inches apart. I can feel her breath on my face.

I can see the vastness in her eyes, only one of which can actually see the shock and fear in my own.

I am paralyzed.

Her eyes grow wide and she slowly brings a hand to my face. Her fingertips lightly caress my skin, following the tracks tears have made down my face.

She traces old scars and fading bruises, leaving trails of fire in her wake. I begin to relax, allowing myself to remember her touch.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

I close my eyes. My entire body is melting. This can't be real. I am both terrified and filled with a deep, gut-wrentching longing.

I hear a sharp intake of breath as place my hand on hers and lean into her touch. Her hands are ice cold, but I don't care. In my head, we are on the roof of the training center, not allowing ourselves to think about anything but us. Right now. In this moment. Forever.

"P-Peeta?" her whisper is barely audible over my heavy breathing. Her hands jerk away from my face.

I pry open my eyes, hoping that she's still there. Now, I'm desperate for this not to be a delusion.

Desperate for her not to be shiny.

She isn't shiny. She's terrified.

Haunted.

She starts to back away, placing her trembling hands over her ears and muttering to herself with her eyes squeezed shut.

I manage to choke out her name. "Katniss?" Her eyes snap open, wide with fear. Why is she so scared of me?

I start to crawl over to her. I need to feel her again. I need to feel something again. Even if this is some trick, I need to feel her.

I've spent the past year remembering. Remembering her- us. And now that I do, I can't forget. I wont forget.

I need this. I need to remember her touch. I reach out to her.

"Katniss… Please…"

Her muttering gets louder and her hands squeeze tighter around her ears.

"Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. NOT REAL! NOT REAL!" She sinks to the floor and half screams, half sobs, "This isn't real! Peeta is dead! You watched him die! They killed him because of you! They killed everyone because of you!"

I immediately halt. She wasn't talking to me.

They told her I was dead. They told her I was dead and that it was her fault.

But how could they have showed her? They must have altered a video of one of my torture sessions to make it look like I had been killed.

I realize the reason Snow allowed this meeting. Katniss would have done this in the middle of his precious "_party"._ She would have caused a scene, because she thought I was dead. And Snow doesn't want anyone making scenes, does he?

She wails their names; Prim, Finnick, Gale, Pollux.

Me.

She yells them exactly thee way I have heard her yell them every day for the past year.

And so, like every other time, I begin to have an episode.

My body tenses up and I collapse onto the ground as the waves of pain begin to rip through my body.

_No no no no… please stop hurting her… please make it stop…_

She stops yelling their names and just starts screaming, her terrified eyes glued on my writhing form. Her anguished screams bring new waves of pain crashing into my chest, pushing all of the air out of my lungs.

I beg her to stop. I just want the pain to stop.

Her screams turn to whimpers and eventually back to ragged breaths. My body relaxes. I open my eyes and find hers. She looks so scared. But there's something else in her eyes now, something that makes my heart swell. Something that I think is hope.

At that moment I knew that this had to be real, but I can still see doubt etched in her eyes.

"You are d-dead. They killed you after I sang to Pollux. R-real or n-not real?" she asks me, her eyes desperately searching my own.

"Not real."

"But I saw you. I watched them kill you. They handcuffed you to a wall and beat you until you were dead. They had doctors some in and announce your death and everything. They carried you off in a body bag…" Her voice cracks with pain.

I remember that day. It was during the first month. They were experimenting new ways to torture me besides hearing Katniss in pain. Two large peacekeepers had beaten me until I passed out from the pain. I woke up in a dark hospital room tethered to a bed. The doctors told me that I had 4 broken ribs, a broken jaw and nose, and a punctured lung. That is when I had overheard the peacekeeper talking about Pollux and Katniss. Apparently while I was still unconscious, they made it seem like I had died, and showed it to Katniss to punish her for that little act of rebellion.

"Not real. I was still alive. I _am_ still alive… it was all an act…"

She starts to sob in earnest now, and I can't hold back anymore.

I close the distance between us, taking her into my hungry arms as be both shake with sobs. I pull her into my lap, clutching her to my chest.

I will never let go.

I take her face in my hands, kissing her tears. I let my thumb trace her scars, kissing her eyes. I bury my face in her matted hair, letting it envelope me.

We lay together on the cold floor, just as we did on those nights in the train when we would save each other from nightmares. This time, however, we hold onto to one another not to protect us from nightmares, but to tether ourselves to reality while we live one.

This nightmare is un-wakeable.

After a few hours, her sobs start to slow and her breathing evens out.

"P-Peeta?" She looks up at me, her good eye desperately searching my own. "If you're s-still alive, if they l-lied to me about k-killing you… D-do you think that- Do you think that Snow could have lied about P-Prim t-too?"

She's looking at me with such pure desperation and hope that I can't bear to tell her about the videos that Snow showed me. And when I think about it, he never actually showed me a video of Prim drying, just one of her running to help the children near the bombsite. He could have just edited the explosions to look like she had gotten there when the bombs went off. But I can't know that for sure. Only Snow can.

I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. She looks at me expectantly.

"I don't know, Katniss. I honestly don't know."

She lowers her head back into my chest and slowly nods, taking deep, shaky breaths to stifle the sobs that threaten to re-commence.

Eventually, her breathing evens out and she falls asleep, leaving me alone in my thoughts. Katniss is alive. I am alive, even though they told Katniss I was dead. Gale could possibly still be alive. And who knows about Haymitch and everyone back in Thirteen. For the first time in a year, I allow myself to hope.

_Prim might be still alive._

If Prim is still alive, Katniss may be able to recover from all of this.

But, if Snow _was_ telling the truth...

If Prim is, indeed, dead…

I doubt that Katniss Everdeen will ever be the same again.

_**Well, there you have it! Please review and let me know what you think! It really encourages me to keep writing! I'm seriously considering doing a chapter in Katniss's POV sometime very soon. Maybe during Snow's party. Thanks to all who keep up with this story and those who review! And to those who don't review… review! I'd really like to hear your opinions! **_

_**I'll get chapter 7 up as soon as I can! **_


	7. Chapter 7: Cellblock 12

_**Hello readers! So I've adressed some issues in this chapter, particularly the issue of Katniss and Peeta not being near physically heathly enough to look presentable at Snow's "party". (Thank you Tasteless Rain for reminding me. I've been trying to figure out how I could resolve that whole issue for the past few days, and I think that I've figured out what I'm going to do.) This is kind of a semi-short chapter to sort of lead you into the party scene, which is probably going to be a pretty long one. Thanks to all who reviewed! It really encouraged me to write faster! :)  
>Okay, enough rambling!<br>Enjoy :) **_

I stay awake the for remainder of the night, afraid that if I close my eyes, Katniss won't be there when I open them. Or worse, that I'll wake up trapped in a shiny memory and hurt her more than I already have… more than the Capitol already has. I stare down at the tattered remains of the girl I fell in love with so many years ago. I wonder where Katniss Everdeen has gone; the Mockingjay, the symbol of rebellion? Where is the headstrong girl who fought to keep us alive in not one, but two hunger games? Where is the determined twelve-year-old who picked a dandelion in the schoolyard after she was given a gift of bread? Where is the tenacious teenager who became a huntress to keep her family alive? And where is the precious, fearless little girl in a red plaid dress? The one who stood up on her first day of school, silenced the world with her song, and has been carrying around my heart ever since.

The Katniss in my arms is not any of these Katnisses. This Katniss is the result of a lifetime of being repeatedly torn apart, starting with the death of her father and ending with the death of her sister. I genuinely want to believe that Prim could still be alive. I want so badly to hope, but I haven't in so long that I think I've forgotten how.

Katniss stirs, mumbling inaudibly in her sleep. She looks almost peaceful. The girl in my arms may not be the Katniss she used to be, but she is and will forever be _my_ Katniss, no matter what they do to her.

To us.

_The party_

I had almost forgotten about Snow's party, and now that I remember, anxiety starts to bubble in my chest. I tighten my grip on Katniss, pulling her even closer into me.

My thoughts are broken by the slam of the door opening in front of us. It's easier for my eyes to adjust since we have been granted a light. A tall, broad-chested peacekeeper stands in front of us.

"Peeta Mellark! Katniss Everdeen!" His booming voice reverberates off the concrete walls, causing Katniss to jolt awake, slamming her head against my chin. "I have been instructed to tell you that the gathering tonight has been postponed to a later date to be determined by the President. Katniss Everdeen both of you will be moved to cellblock twelve in preparation for the event."

Two new peacekeepers enter the room, slapping handcuffs on Katniss. I watch as Katniss's eyes grow wild and she begins thrashing violently, biting and kicking at her captor. Her guttural roars turn to yelps of pain as he takes her by the hair and jerks upward, a malicious grin stretched across his face.

"PEETAAAA!" She screams as the peacekeeper begins to drag her out of the door.

_Stay with me, Peeta?_

_Always._

"KATNISS!" I scream and run towards her, but I am held back by the two remaining peacekeepers. I also being to thrash one peacekeeper handcuffs me while the other jabs a needle into my straining neck. And once again, I feel the telltale relaxation and sleepiness that go with being tranquilized. They bend over to pick up my feet, and, as my last act of defiance before I can no longer fight off the drugs, I spit right in the peacemakers face.

Just as his fist connects with my jaw, I fall into blackness.

I wake up in a new cell. This one is similar to the cells I passed in the hallway leading to the white room, but instead of long metal bars surrounding each enclosure, there is a shiny silver grid made up of thin metal wire running from the dusty floors to the ceiling. There is a divider made of the same material separating each cell. I reach out and touch the glimmering wire, then weave my fingers through the grid and push. Although the wire is thin and should be easily bendable, it doesn't budge. I push harder. This wire is completely unyielding.

_Damn_.

I have a corner cell, so I crawl over to the divider separating my chamber from the others. I look around my own cell and see that I also have a cot and a scratchy blanket, as well as a curtained off area containing a small dull metal toilet and a rusty shower faucet. If it weren't for the miniscule size, the eerie chill, the intimidating metallic walls and appliances, and the damp gloominess hanging over the entire cellblock, I'd think it was almost _nice. _As far as I can see, only two of the cells in this block are currently inhabited: mine, and the cell next to me where I can make out a sleeping Katniss lying on a thin cot, tangled in a scratchy-looking blanket, her body moving up and down as air fills her lungs. I let out a sigh of relief.

I am just about to try and wake her when a slot that I didn't notice before opens in the concrete back wall, and a heaping plate of rich, greasy food slides through before it snaps shut. The same happens in Katniss's cell. She begins to stir when she smells it. After being half starved for a year, the scent of even the most repulsive food can make your mouth water. And this food is _far_ from repulsive. My eyes devour the scene: decadent roasted chicken slathered with orange sauce, a small heap of mashed potatoes drowning in a thick pool of brown gravy, and a small steaming teacup of hot chocolate. I tear my eyes away from the decadent display to attempt to rouse Katniss, grabbing onto the cold metal grid for support.

"Katniss… Katniss wake up," I half whisper, half yell to her stirring form. "Katniss, they brought us _food_!"

"_Peeta?_"

She lifts her heavy head, taking a deep breath through her nostrils. Her eyes snap open lock on the plate on the ground in front of her. She rubs her good eye, blinks a few times, and shoots her gaze over to me, her eyes blank. "I'm not hungry."

A loud buzzer goes off.  
>Excruciating pain shoots up my arms and seizes my entire body. Katniss screams as I fall to a twitching heap on the floor. My toe is still touching the grid though, and another wave of pain shoots up my leg and into my chest and I go rigid. This pain is familiar.<p>

"Stop! Please! I'm hungry! I am! I'll eat!"

The paralyzing pain abruptly stops, leaving a throbbing soreness in its place. The last time I felt this way was after I ran into the forcefield during the quarter quell. The grid has electrocuted me.

She takes her plate and leans up against the now harmless divider. Through teary eyes, she pleads for me to do the same. Slowly, I do. I can feel her skin through the metal as we both pick up our forks.

We eat.

The portion is just large enough to fill us up, but not so big as to make us sick.

After we finish, we pull our cots against the divider and fall asleep, our hands woven through both metal and fingers.

This is our routine over the next weeks. We are given four meals a day, each getting bigger and bigger as we grow accustomed to the new portion size. I gain back at least 25 pounds, Katniss 20. We eat, we sit in silence until the next meal, neither of us able to talk about anything that needs to be discussed. We eat. We fall asleep on our cots, our hands entangled through the wire. We have vivid nightmares, Katniss waking up thrashing and screaming, yelling out the names of the dead, and me snapping awake, unable to move, paralyzed with terror.

I have episodes. I throw things, barrel around the room like a madman. I attribute the good amount of muscle I have put on to this. When they get too violent and I start taking it out on the grid, however, they shoot waves of electricity through it that knock me out. When I wake up, the episode is over and Katniss is always screaming. We hold each other's hands through the metal until we both calm down. Once we do though, Katniss runs to the opposite side of her cell and curls up in a ball, only to remain silent and trembling, ignoring my desperate pleas and coaxing. Seeing her when she gets like that scares me. I want to fix her, I want to put her back together again. But how can I do that when I'm still so broken myself. And I can't even imagine trying to pick up the pieces while we are still stuck in this hell.

So I let her whimper. I let each cry that escapes her lips rip another piece out of me. I let my longing for her touch consume me to the point where just curl up in a ball on my cot and gasp for air until our next meal.

Then, we eat.

_Tick Tock, Peeta,_

_This is a ticking clock._

After what I think has been three or four weeks (they only give us one mug of hot chocolate a day, so i've been keeping track of how many days go by based on how many mugs of hot chocolate I've recieved) I wake to footsteps echoing down the dark hallway as a figure slowly approaches. Katniss is fully alert. I can hear both of our hearts pounding in our chests.

"Tomorrow night, Mr. Mellark. Miss Everdeen. Remember what you both promised me." President Snow hisses.

He gives us a disgusted glare before turning around and disappearing into the shadows. He seemed rushed; frustrated, even.

I hear Katniss gulp beside me, and panic begins steadily rising through my chest and up my throat, choking me.

_Tick tock, Peeta,_

_Tick tock_

_It's almost time for this clock_

_To stop._

_**Well there you have it! I'll try and get the next chapter out ASAP, but it may take me a few days to write it since I have a lot of other school related things going on this week. Thanks for reading and keeping up with this story! Oh, and who's excited to buy their Hunger Games tickets tomorrow? I know I am!  
>Now, go review! :)<strong>_


	8. Chapter 8: The President's Party

_**Hello everyone! I am so sorry it took me so long to update! It was a VERY busy week! But it's over now, and that means it's time to write! :) So a few reviewers had some questions that I tried to address in this chapter. I can guarantee there is a reason I didn't write in much conversation last chapter, which i hope you will understand in this one. If you don't, just PM me or review and ask and I'll answer all of your questions :) Also, thank you all SO much for the great reviews and the favorites/story alerts! I am truly honored!  
>This chapter focuses more on the daynight of and the beginning of the party as well as Katniss and Peeta's relationship. Plus, of course, all of that inner turmoil!  
>I hope you enjoy!<br>**_

Both Katniss and I cannot sleep, not with Snow's mysterious plan looming over their heads. He looked so frustrated and angry, which was very unlike him. Snow usually has a menacing, mischievous air about him, never losing his cool. I want to applaud whatever was able to wipe that smug off of his snakelike face.

Katniss and I lay side by side on our respective cots, the only barrier between us the metal grid of the divider. We lay in silence for a while, contemplating our fate and organizing our thoughts. Her thoughts probably consist of all she has lost and what else she will lose. But me? All I can think of is a little girl in a red plaid dress and a song. A song I had watched her sing to Pollux in the woods on a screen in thirteen during my recovery. A song I had heard she also sang to him as he died. A song I once heard her father singing as he left the bakery after trading with my father.

The words dance somberly around in my head.

A slow, mournful waltz.

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree  
><em>_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three_

"Peeta?" her voice is barely a whisper, but I jump at the sound of her voice. "What do you think will happen to us?"

I turn to face her. I stare at her for a while, thinking. What _will_ happen to us? If this so-called "party" turns out to be our execution, that would be okay. I could accept that. It would all be over. The pain, the emptiness, the loss. We would be free. We would be able to see our families again.

The image of a healthy, glowing Katniss twirling a laughing prim in an embrace pops into my head, along with others. Finnick, grinning that stupid suggestive grin as my mother slaps him almost playfully on the arm. Pollux and his brother, singing the valley song with deep booming voices that echo around the walls of my mind. My brothers, tackling me to the ground in a bear hug, ruffling my hair. My father, grasping my hand and helping me up, pulling me into a tight hug and whispering into my hair, _"I'm so proud of you, Peeta."_

But what if he wasn't going to kill us?

No. If he doesn't kill us tomorrow night, I will find a way for us to die, to free us. Or at least, I will find a way to free Katniss.

But first… I will find a way to kill President Snow. Or at least, I will try.

"I have a feeling that whatever it is, we'll never see this place again," she whispers, her fingers reaching through the wire and weaving in my own. It's as if she had read my mind.

We sit in silence for a while. There is just so much we need to talk about, so much that we haven't said. We've been letting ourselves be consumed with our own torments, with our own thoughts and nightmares, rather than confronting the many questions we each need to be answered. About our families, about our friends.

Personally, I have a lot of questions about her.

About us.

I've remembered so much since I was last able to really talk to her, to ask her questions. And honestly, I'm not sure how much is completely real.

Plus we need to talk about the future, particularly about how we are going to escape whatever Snow has in store for us.

We're both terrified to say the wrong thing, because in this setting, saying the wrong thing means pain. It means that they will hurt her. It means that they will hurt me. Our shiny metal cage seems even more daunting and dangerous now.

I definitely can't say anything about my plan, or lack thereof, to kill Snow. Or her. Or myself.

She turns around to face me, sitting Indian-style on her cot. I do the same. She glances at me shyly.

Expectantly.

So I start with something safe. Something that, although I'd never admit it, I actually miss. _Someone _that I actually miss.

"Haymitch's house in the victors village smelled awful. Like mildew and rotting food. Real or not real?"

A grin spreads across her face as her eyes cloud with memories.

"Real. But you took bread to him anyway. Every day. And when Hazelle started coming over to take care of the place, it actually started to smell _nice._ Like an actual living person lived there instead of a rotting corpse,_" _her grin immediately falls when she realizes her choice of words. Images of Haymitch's decaying carcass flash across my eyes. Shiny memories prick at the back of my head. I squeeze my eyes shut.

_Not real._

I open them and look over at Katniss. She seems to be trying to convince herself the same thing. Her eyes pool with tears as she looks down at her trembling hands in her lap.

"_He_ could still be alive. Real or not real?" She mutters. She looks so hopeless, so sad. The darkness and guilt in her eyes leads me to believe she doesn't only mean Haymitch.

She also means Gale.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can't find the words. This never used to happen to me before the tracker-jacker venom. My ability to manipulate words, to intricately weave them together to form whatever needed by the listener, was my one true weapon. The one thing that I was able to do to keep us alive.

However, I've learned over the past few years that sometimes words just aren't enough.

"I…I honestly don't know, Katniss. I mean… I just wish… There's just no way either of us would be able to know…" I stammer, trying to make put my thoughts into words that sound right. She slowly nods, her gaze drifting towards the ceiling.

But I can't. Because there really isn't any way we'd be able to know. We've been locked in the Capitol's stronghold for a year, our only outside contact being peacekeepers, doctors, and Snow. All of who refuse to relinquish even the smallest pieces of information about what may have happened to the rebels still in thirteen after their forced retreat. Are they still alive, stuck underground? Have they even made an attempt to rescue us? Does the rebellion still even exist? Or has the capture of the Mockingjay and her star-crossed lover squelched their fire?

I hate this perpetual uncertainty.

She slowly nods, her gaze drifting towards the ceiling.

"After they told me Prim was dead… after they told me _you_ were dead… it was so much easier…" She looks up at my puzzled expression and I swear I could almost see her blush. She shakily treks on.

"I…I had nothing else to live for. Nothing else to hope for. My sister and my…_ you_ were dead. The two people on this entire planet that I could have never imagined just not_ living _anymore_._ The only two people that have ever made me believe this merciless world was worth living in. Worth fighting for. They had taken you and Prim away from me, and along with you my will to live. I looked forward to the end. To death. I waited for it, willed it to take me. Death consumed me. I stopped feeling. I was catatonic for months…"

My heart is racing. The look in her eyes. It was so familiar. Heartbreak. I've seen it before. I've felt it before. When she volunteered for Prim. When I was reaped. After the first games. After Gales whipping. On the beach during the quell. When I overheard her by the tent in the capitol. When she kissed me to bring me back to reality during the mission. When I watched peacekeepers take her outside of Tigris's shop. When I heard her scream. Every day. For so long.

I feel it now.

"It was so easy to pretend they were _all_ dead. Haymitch, My mother, Gale." she shudders. Her breathing begins to quicken and tears spill from her eyes as she chokes back sobs. I want so badly to reach her, to hold her… but I am paralyzed, fighting back the shiny memories that try to jar me from this moment. "But then a-all of a sudden y-you were a-alive again…and… and it's _so_ much harder to j-just k-keep pretending now that…n-now that you… You're _alive_, Peeta…" She clings to the wire, her eyes wild and desperate. "That has to mean _something_." We are both crying now, our foreheads pressed against the cold metal that keeps us from one another. We grasp desperately at each other's hands through the wire and I raise my face to hers. Our noses brush through the grid, causing us both to throw away any and all inhibitions. Our lips crash and move together hungrily, clumsy with desperation and longing, and wet with desire and tears.

I can taste nothing but Katniss. I can smell nothing but Katniss. I can feel nothing but Katniss.

Katniss. Katniss. Katniss.

_I love you, Katniss._

_Always._

I know this isn't the right time. I know we are both broken and confused. But I have to tell her. I have to make sure she knows. Because if I am going to die, I am going to die loving Katniss Everdeen with everything I have.

I pry myself out of the kiss, almost without success when I open my eyes and see the dark, wild look in her eyes. My head is foggy, but I have to do this. I have to tell her.

A piercing scream blows up the charged silence as 4 peacekeepers burst through the doors at the each end of the hall.

"Prep time!" one booms through the corridor.

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Nothing…_

_Time's up._

I have to do this quick. They are coming.

"I love you Katniss! I always have, and I always will!"

Two of the peacekeepers crash through the door of my cell with a loud clang.

"No matter what! No matter what I am, no matter where you are, no matter what I do!"

They grab me by the back of the shirt and yank me up, causing me to yelp and Katniss to claw madly at the divider, gasping my name.

"Please! Always remember! Always!"

The two other peacekeepers charge into her cell and pick her up by the arms. She grits her teeth, refusing to break eye contact with me. The lightness of her blind eye pierces the darkness.

And for the first time in a year, I get a glimpse of her, the old Katniss.

The girl in the red plaid dress.

The girl who was on _fire._

A fire that I cannot live without.

"Peeta!" She screams as they start dragging her out of the cell. And to the door opposite the one I am being led to. "Nightlock!"

_Nightlock…_

Katniss's voice echoes in my head as I conjure up her song.

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

My memory flashes to a handful of berries. I am holding them up so that the Capitol can see. So all of Panem can see. So President Snow can see that I will not live in a world where Katniss Everdeen exists. That I will not be a pawn in his disgusting games.

Katniss and I are not going to play Snow's games. Not any more. We will die first. Together.

_If we met up at midnight at the hanging tree_

"Nightlock!" I yell in reply as I am yanked through a doorway, my last glimpse of Katniss being a triumphant, toothy grin.

After I am prepped, I am brought down to a room similar to the one underneath the stage where they held all of the interviews, complete with a glass platform, although, this room is substantially smaller and I can hear murmurs of a crowd conversing happily and excitedly above my head. I try to make out what they are saying, but their accents are so affected and their voices are so muffled that I can only make out a few words and have to give up.

It only took about 4 hours to get me fully prepped instead of the 8 it took last year before the Quell. Unlike my last prep team however, these 3 preps were very intimidating. All three were men with sparkly pale skin, just like the woman who led me to the white room, and black hair that had been slicked back from their faces. They were extremely large, with square jaws and identical emotionless features; Triplets, I presume. They were a lot rougher, too, working very quickly, ignoring all of the scars on my body and focusing on my face. The small amount of scruff that finally started to grow back after they chemically removed it before the last games was removed. My scars and bruises were expertly covered up and they brought me to what Cinna and Portia used to refer to as 'beauty-base zero'. Once they finished, they tossed a garment bag at me and stormed out of the room, leaving me to finish dressing myself.

I look at my reflection in the glass of the platform.

I am dressed in a very sleek dark-red tuxedo that shimmers when it catches the light. I fill it out surprisingly well, seeing as I am still pretty thin. I'm sure they added some padding or something to help add some muscle to my now weak frame.

A peacekeeper, who had been standing stoically in the corner of the room when I arrived, shoves me onto the platform and my heart begins to race. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest. I feel like I am once again about to enter the arena, which I guess isn't too far off from what this is probably going to be like.

_I need to find Katniss._

_I need to find a weapon._

_I need to kill Snow._

_And if I fail,_

_I need to kill us both._

A loud voice booms over the speakers above me. Snow's high voice echoes around me.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Citizens of the beloved Capitol! It is my honor to welcome you to a very _special_ 50th annual White Rose Live Auction!"

Time stops.

All I can hear is a shrill ringing in my ears.

I once again lose the ability to breathe as my heart plummets into my gut.

_We, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve, are about to be sold._

_**Well, now you know what Snow's "party" really is! But why would he want to auction off the two most famous rebels in Panem? You'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out :) I get chapter 9 out either tomorrow or Sunday. Now, go review!**_


	9. Chapter 9: A Promise

_**Hey Guys! I am SO sorry it took me so long to update. I know I promised a chapter by Sunday, but alas, I forgot that I had a paper due along with my usual mound of homework. And yesterday I went to bed VERY early in order to recover from my lack of sleep the night before. So, here we are. This chapter is going to be mostly flashback since I haven't written one in a while, although I tried to integrate it in with the present a little bit. Last time, Peeta learned what Snow has planned for himself and Katniss, and this chapter is his reaction to this new information. I know I said you'd find out why Snow was auctioning them off in this chapter, but I decided I wanted to focus more on what's going on in Peeta's head for a bit. But I promise, NEXT chapter will be the actual auction. I want to thank all those who reviewed/favorited/added this story to their story-alerts, keep reviewing, etc! And I encourage all who haven't to do so! :) So finally, here's Chapter 9!**_

As I stand on this glass platform, contemplating my next moves, I remember the first time after my hijacking that I felt wholly myself. Untainted.

Coincidently, it came after a moment when I was completely _not_ myself. A moment when I allowed the shiny memories to engulf me and transform me into the monster the Capitol had created.

It's hard to remember exactly what it was that triggered the episode. It could have been a number of things... the explosion, the panic, the gunfire, the blood. There was so much blood. I just couldn't hold it back anymore. Katniss, who was dragging Bogg's shredded body out of the street, slipped and fell to the ground beneath her. Then all of a sudden her eyes gleamed red and everything turned shiny.

Katniss was about to jump up and kill me. After attempting to so many times, she was finally going to kill me, and I couldn't just let her. I had to kill her first. My gun was loaded with blanks, so I got creative, bringing the butt of it down on her skull. However, it made contact with the ground instead, and all of a sudden I was tackled to the ground and pinned by a grey-eyed wolf-mutt. It bit and clawed at my throat, determined to rip me apart. _Just like it ripped Cato apart_. Fueled by venom and adrenaline, I was able to get my feet underneath the mutt's underside and launch him off of me. Then, chaos. The next thing I knew, I was being cuffed and thrown into a closet filled with shiny tracker jackers. They stung me over and over again as I pummel the door with my feet, trying to escape. Eventually I passed out exhaustion and pain.

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the closet and there were no tracker jackers or mutts anywhere in sight. No one had noticed I had woken, however, because they were all staring at a large flat television. They were watching me push Mitchell into a pod, which imprisoned him in barbed wire as a wave of black sludge engulfed the screen. The grey-eyed mutt wasn't the one who pinned me. It was Mitchell. _Because I tried to kill Katniss_.

A moment of total clarity washed over me. The shiny memories that I had been struggling to fight back since I woke completely disappear for the first time since I had been hijacked. I had an epiphany. If Katniss was to survive this, I couldn't be there. If _anyone_ was going to survive this, I couldn't be there. Unfortunately at that point in the mission, I only had two options. The first option was making the squad leave without me, which would mean risking being captured by the Capitol. Again. The second was death. I knew that in the current stage of my recovery, I would not mentally be able to endure being captured again. Even the thought caused my heart to turn to stone. I knew what had to happen to save them, to prevent me from killing anyone else. So when I hear Gale ask the group what the next move was, I answered.

"_Isn't it obvious?" _Their heads whipped around to look at me. They were obviously unaware that I had regained consciousness. I looked down, unable to look any of them in the eye after what I had done- any of them except for the one person I knew would be the only one who could do what needed to be done. My blue eyes lock on Gales grey ones. _"Our next move… is to kill me."_

Although that was the first time I really felt in control of myself, it was not the first time that I have accepted that I needed to die.

I came to terms with dying years ago. No, not when I was reaped, I was only in shock then. I knew I was going to die, yes, but that truth terrified me to the point of denial. The idea really began to resonate after the final visit from my family in Twelve's justice building before our departure to the Capitol. If seeing the hopelessness and helplessness in their eyes wasn't enough to make me face my fate, my mother's parting words definitely were. _"On the bright side, maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner besides that drunk Haymitch. She's a survivor, that one"_

She... Meaning Katniss. Even my own _mother_ had accepted the fact that I was as good as dead.

So, on the train, sitting across from a very indifferent looking Katniss, the girl who had been the subject of my daydreams, the girl who made my heart thunder in my chest every time she was in the same room as me, I made a promise to myself. If I was going to die, I was going to fight to keep Katniss Everdeen alive as long as I was physically able. I wanted my life to mean something, for my inevitable death to serve some sort of purpose besides providing entertainment for the Capitol. And if not that, then I at least wanted to die saving someone who deserved to live: Katniss Everdeen. Because if Katniss had done anything in her mere sixteen years on earth, it was proving over and over again, to me and all of District Twelve, that she deserved to live. All of her life she had been the provider, the protector, to her mother and little sister Prim, as was evident when she volunteered for Prim in the reaping. So I decided then and there that since Prim and her mother were not going to be able to return the favor, I would just have to do it for them.

I was going to do everything in my power to make sure Katniss made it back to them.

As the glass below my feet begins to rise up around me, I make the same promise.

I will not let her be taken. I will save Katniss Everdeen, or I will die trying. Even if it means I have to continue living, become a slave, a whore. Even if the cost is my freedom, I will find a way to serve a purpose. I will find a way to make sure Katniss Everdeen is reunited with her little sister again.

A shrill female voice booms over the loudspeakers, jolting me back to reality.

"Ladies of the Capitol, get out your wallets! This first _item_ up for auction may be known as one-half of the most famous couple of the decade! After competing in both the 74th Hunger Games and the 3rd Quarter Quell alongside his 'lover', along with growing up a baker's son lifting _all sorts_ of heavy things, he is sure to be a feisty one in the bedroom, as well as an asset to your home or business! Please welcome Item #001 up for auction… PEETA MELLARK!"

I fight the sudden urge to vomit.  
>I must remain resolute.<p>

"_I've never been a contender in these games anyway." I tell her. After what my mother said to me at the justice building, I made my decision. I accepted my fate. But just like she deserves to live, she also deserves to know part of why I must die. _

"_That's no way to be thinking," she says._

"_Why not? It's true. My best hope is not to disgrace myself and…" How do I put this without freaking her out? I can't very well tell her anything I may be planning. I can't tell her I'm planning on dying for her.  
><em>_But I'm not_ just_ doing this for _her_, am I?_

"_And what?" she probes, her eyes trained on my own, making it hard for me to think, let alone form sentences._

My heart is racing. A distant, shrill, girly voice squeaks my starting price, but I miss it. I am too far deep in this memory.

"_I don't know how to say it exactly. Only… I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" She shakes her head no. Of course she doesn't. The only thing on her agenda since her father died has been survival, not preserving her moral identity. So, I struggle onward, willing her to understand. "I don't what them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." She looks at me curiously. She's been looking at me like that a lot lately… Like she's trying to figure me out._

"_Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" She asks._

_I've thought about this a lot. If I allied with her, I probably could hold off killing anyone for a while, but then again it would make it that much harder for her to kill me if it came down to it. So I have decided to go off alone, maybe even try and ally with the careers. And that means I'll have to kill._

My platform begins to rise, and I struggle to hold on, to remember, as the memory begins to fade away.

"_No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only, I keep wishing I could think of a way to… to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."_

Tonight, I will make the old Peeta proud. I will show the Capitol that they no longer own me. That I am more than just a piece in their sick little games. That _we_ are more than what they want us to be.

I will fight.  
>I will kill.<p>

_I will set us free._

A somber tune echoes in my mind.

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the Tree?_

I am blinded by the lights and deafened by the roar of the crowd as my platform slowly lifts me to the stage.  
>I immediately lock eyes with President Snow. They belong to a desperate man, not to the manipulative man who has held us captive for so long. Something has changed him.<p>

I do not look away.  
>I do not yield.<p>

_I am going to kill you.  
><em>_I am going to kill us all._

_** I promise I will try and get the next chapter out sooner, although I do have a big test to study for tomorrow, so it'll probably be thursday before I can even think about writing. So anyways, I hope you liked the chapter! Now go tell me what you think! Review! :)**  
><em>


	10. Chapter 10: Sold

_**Phew. Finally finished writing this thing. I've been feverishly writing on and off all day trying to get this update out tonight. I'll try and keep this short, then. Thank you to all who reviewed, etc, etc! It's auction time! I hope you enjoy :)**_

You would think that after being in the public eye for two years straight, I would have gotten used to being on stage; being cheered for. You would think that after all of the acting I've done to convince these people Katniss and I were something they wanted us to be, all while under the watchful eyes of the President of Panem, I'd be used to the pressure.

Maybe it's because the stakes are even higher tonight, or maybe it's because I've been out of it for so long, but right now the spotlight seems so much brighter than before, and so much hotter.

I can see that even Snow is momentarily mesmerized as his eyes tear away from mine and turn towards the audience.

No, not audience. There's another word to describe what these people are. What they are doing here tonight.

They are consumers.

Clientele.

A hush falls over the crowd as they stare at me, their eyes wide with awe. I glance up at a huge screen at my image, and I am stunned.

The light hitting my tuxedo makes it shimmer like scarlet fire, which only adds to the feeling that I have been set ablaze by the glare of the spotlight. My face looks as if it has been carved out of stone. My eyes from ice. I wonder who actually designed this brilliant outfit. It looks like something Portia or Cinna would have come up with. But it's not. Because Portia and the rest of my prep team were publicly slaughtered, and Cinna... Well, I'm not sure how Cinna was killed, but seeing as it was done privately, it must have been awful.

I shudder. The ones who made Katniss and I unforgettable, the creators of the 'girl who was on fire'. Dead.

_My name is Peeta Mellark. I was once a son. A brother. A baker. A painter. A friend. _

_I was once a giver of bread._

_The Capitol has turned me into a pawn. A tribute. A lover. A victor. A fiancée. A father. A rebel. A prisoner. A mutt. A monster._

I take a deep breath.

_But tonight, I am only what I want myself to me. I am a man. I am strong. I am a fighter. A protector. A hero. A killer. A brilliant actor._

_I am Her's. I will forever be her's, and I will be there for her, always._

_My name is Peeta Mellark. My back's against the rope. I am about to be sold, and this is my last chance._

The auctioneer grows impatient when she is unable to stifle the murmuring of the crowd. She clears here throat loudly a few times before finally slamming a chrome-plated gavel down on the mahogany podium. That's when I notice her bracelet. Dangling from a thin gold chain is what looks like rows of diamond-studded silver triangular razor blades. They look about the size of half of my thumb.

Even if they aren't actually razor blades, they look sharp enough to puncture flesh.

To kill.

The crowd jumps at the sound and falls silent.

"Now, now, ladies and gentlemen! Let's settle down so we can start the bidding!"

I have a plan.

It may not be a good one, it may not be well thought out, but it's a plan.

I relax my face, putting on my most winning smile as I stride casually over to the podium and pull the microphone to my lips. Peacekeepers stationed around the stage straighten up, eying me warily. If I were to run, they would most definitely by able to stop me.

I do not plan on running.

I turn to the crowd, glancing sideways at Snow, who is glaring at me darkly and muttering furiously under his breath. I smirk at him before turning towards the auctioneer.

"Oh, but miss, don't you want to let the audience here know what _else_ they would be receiving alongside _this," _I make a sweeping gesture along my torso, "brilliant package?" I lower my forehead to gaze at the audience from under my eyelashes, flash them a seductive grin, and wink. I smile a little inside as well, because I just know that Finnick would think this was a riot.

It works. The crowd goes wild, begging me to continue, multi-colored women of all shapes and sizes are screaming, the ones in the front are fanning themselves as they are overcome with desire. Although he would think it was hilarious, even Finnick would have to admit I was good at this whole seduction thing.

The auctioneer, who is also fanning herself as a deep blush creeps up her neck and face, beckons me to continue as she loops her arm through my own and gazes up at me through fluttering eyelashes.

I unclip the microphone from the podium and snap it onto the lapel of my jacket as I make my way, arm and arm with the auctioneer, to the center of the stage. As we reach the center, I turn to her, away from Snow, and give her a slow kiss on the cheek as I swiftly twist two of the triangular charms off of the bracelet and stuff them into my pocket. I turn back towards the crowd, smiling mischievously as the auctioneer squeals with delight.

"Tonight, the highest bidder will not only receive eternal servitude and pleasure, but will also get to select a private audience of three to accompany you to The President's mansion, where you will bear witness as Katniss Everdeen and I share our final goodbyes." I let my face fall, allowing myself to feel the sadness that I have been suppressing by determination.

The crowd eats it up.

A wave of excitement washes over the crowd as they whisper enthusiastically to one another before bursting into applause. I look over at Snow. His eyes narrow at me suspiciously and his jaw tenses in frustration as his eyes dart between my stony glare and the greedy faces of his constituents. The auctioneer hurries over to Snow for confirmation before retrieving another microphone and returning giddily to my side.

"Now isn't this _wonderful_! I just wish that_ I _could bid on this _fabulous_ package!" Her hungry eyes linger on me as she rushes back over to the podium. The applause slowly dies down until the room in almost completely silent, save a few sniffles.

_And so it begins._

"The bidding will start at 250 million!" and with a slam of her gavel, all hell breaks loose as every single Capitol woman in the crowd, as well as a few men, shoot their gold-plated paddle inlayed with their bidder number in the air. "Alrighty do I have 300 million?" Again, all of the paddles go up.

The price continues to rise, and the amount of bidders starts to dwindle to about twenty or thirty. I try to feel relief that soon, I will be able to get off of this stage and continue on with my plan.

However, my heart begins to race as I peer into the hungry, almost rabid faces of the dwindling group of bidders, who are now starting to fight with one another, pulling at each other's brightly colored hair. My ears start to ring and I can see my pupils dilating on screen.

_No, please, not now. Not when I'm so close…_

I plead with myself to hold it together. I can't afford being sedated again. They could find the bracelet charms in my pocket and take them away. I might scare away the bidders, and then what? What would become of us then? Would they just kill us? Or would they lock us back up again?

Shiny images of mutts begin to replace each bidder, their deranged cold grey eyes ravenous and their fanged mouths dripping with drool.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away from them.

_I am Peeta Mellark. I am a man, not a mutt. I am strong. I am a fighter. I am a protector. I am a hero. I am a brilliant actor._

_And I am her's. Always._

_Forever._

My heartbeat slows. The ringing in my ears stops. I pull it together.

_Breathe, Peeta._

I wrench my eyes open, determined. The amount of bidders has dwindled down to three; a short, plump, older woman with bright pink skin inlayed with glittering crystal tattoos and a tower of purple hair, a slightly taller, thinner, golden-skinned woman with no hair at all, and a very tall man with the same pale, glittering skin as the woman in the dungeon, but with a single braid of orange hair going down the top of his head all the way to the floor.

I flash a dazzling smile at all three of them. The plump woman actually swoons, falling backwards into the lap of what could possibly be an elderly woman, or just someone who had undergone too many facial reconstruction surgeries. She lies unconscious as the people around her fan her with their paddles.

The remaining two bidders are staring at me even more greedily and desperately now, both waiting for the other to relent.

The price has hit 600 billion, and by the look on their faces every time a higher price is called out, this would be a big hit on both of their wallets.

I steal a glance at President Snow. His fists are clenched tightly into balls, and a sheen of sweat coats his furrowed brow. He stares up at the flashing numbers on the screen with the same greedy, desperate look that the bidders have.

Just as the auctioneer yells "SOLD! For 900 billion to the woman in gold!" it clicks.

The desperation and hunger does not leave his face as he continues to stare at the blinking numbers. He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

Because, like me, he also sees tonight as his last chance.

But his last chance to do what? To get rid of us? To end the rebellion? I'm not even sure the rebellion even still exists, let alone if it's strong enough to cause this sort of reaction from Snow.

There's still hope in his eyes, though, because he still has one more item on the auction block that's guaranteed to get him just as much if not more money than I did: Katniss Everdeen.

The Mockingjay.

He mutters something to a Peacekeeper to his right, who disappears backstage, before walking over to the podium and ushering the auctioneer aside.

"Ah, thank you, thank you, my most loyal citizens of the Capital. I would like to extend my congratulations to Miss Enya Pellifer on her purchase of this most _excellent_ prize package!" The crowd claps dutifully as the bald gold woman Looks haughtily down at them from her new seat on stage next to Snows currently empty one.

The peacekeeper re-emerges from backstage carrying a black leather armchair, which he places off to the side of the stage on the opposite stage of the podium. He then walks over to me and pulls me down into the chair, which has been installed with restraints, and straps me in. But not before I am able to take the charms out of my jacket pocket. I hold them tightly in my fist, careful not to cut my hand.

_They're going to make me watch her be sold._

"Now, before we bring out the next item, I would also like to clarify that the same 'package' our dear Peeta Mellark reminded us of earlier will also be made available to the winning bidder," He explains through clenched teeth. He hands the podium back to the auctioneer and returns to his seat beside the gold woman, who has been staring me down ever since she took her seat. I refuse to meet her gaze. My eyes stay trained on Snow. He obviously wasn't _too_ against my impromptu addition, or else he would have revoked it. No, the old Snow would have revoked it no matter what he thought about it solely because it was my idea, which means I'm obviously up to something. But this Snow, he's desperate, selfish. Angry.

Sacred.

He could care less about anything I've planned. The only thing on his mind now is money, and lots of it.

"Alrighty then! Ladies and Gentlemen! You may know the next item on our list as the symbol of the latest rebellion against our dear city! But before that, you would have seen her as Katniss Everdeen! The Girl On Fire!"

As Katniss rises up out of the floor, the crowd goes absolutely wild. My heartbeat thunders in my chest as it always has when she enters a room. She is beautiful. Snow apparently decided to keep her Mockingjay suit after we were captured, because she's wearing it now. Her slight, yet curvy silhouette against the spotlight suggests that her stylists had to add some padding here and there to make sure the suite still fit. However, instead of her usual braid, her hair falls in thick, soft waves around her stony face. Her preps have done their best to cover up her scar, however I can still make out a faint line stretching from her lips to her cloudy, unseeing eye. By the semi-disgusted looks on some of the Capitol citizens faces, they must think it unsightly.

Personally, I think she looks flawless.

Looking at her in that suit, wearing her signature stony scowl, I almost forget where we are, what we are doing here.

She finally glances over to where I'm sitting. She gives me a weak smile before turning once again to face the crowd. I look at the faces of all of the men who are jeering at her. Unlike the women, who looked desperate with lust at the idea of owning me, these men have a dark, sinister look about them. Like they are used to owning and using women, and that this particular woman would be the ultimate prize.

Something dark stirs within my chest.

_I am a protector._

I am unable to suppress the fury and adrenaline that surges through my veins.

"KATNISS!" I scream. I must get her away from them. I can't let them have her. I struggle against the restraints, but I am unable to turn the bracelet charms around in my hand to saw myself free. Tears roll down her cheeks and she listens to my desperate cries. She doesn't turn to face me. I feel my chair begin to slide backwards and I look frantically around the room fro help that I know will never come.

My eyes finally land on the gold skinned woman. My new "owner".  
>Her face goes dark as she shoots me a look.<p>

A warning.

She slowly raises a finger to her lips as if to shush me, the skin on her forearm glittering in the light.  
>There's something strange about the glittering, though. It's like one of the Capitol's fancy tattoos, except much less noticeable.<p>

As I am pulled backstage and out of sight, the sparkling image finally registers.

_The Mockingjay._

_That's_ why Snow is so desperate. _That_ is why he needs money so badly. He is either running out of resources or is trying to bolt.

_The rebellion lives._

And yet, I find I couldn't care less. This realization does nothing to quell the fear and fury still raging inside me. If anything, my anger grows. Where have they _been _for the past year? Why haven't they tried to rescue us? They abandoned us. They abandoned _her._

I do not trust the rebels. I do not trust them one bit.

_**So, there you have it! The rebellion lives! gasp! :0 Well, the next chapter is going to be another pretty long one, so it may take me a few days to get out. Although since I'm done with classes by 9:30 tomorrow morning, I may be able to get it out tomorrow :) I'm not making an promises though. If you have an questions/concerns/comments, you know what to do! review!**_


	11. Chapter 11: The Price of Rebellion

_**Hello Everyone! I want to thank everyone for all the great reviews! (maryclumsy: I totally thought that exact same thing after I wrote it! haha) This story has gotten so many hits and so much positive feedback! Thank you all so much!  
>WARNING: Peeta has a bit of a dirty mouth in this chapter. It's not TOO awful, but you have been warned! <strong>_

I continue to scream for Katniss and struggle against the Peacekeepers as they undo my restraints and yank me into a small windowless room, similar to my old concrete cell, with two small wooden chairs and table placed carelessly in the middle. They throw me into the chair and tie my arms down with some sort of strong synthetic material, making escape impossible. I hold the bracelet charms tight in my fists, no longer caring if they pierce my skin. The pain keeps me grounded. It keeps the shininess from consuming me. It is the only thing tethering me to reality. The Peacekeepers push my chair over before leaving the room, their laughter echoing off of the stony walls.

The floor is cold.

I focus on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

It dawns on me that I may have ruined everything by my sudden outburst. But no, I still have our final goodbye to make this right again, to kill Snow and Katniss, then myself. As well as anyone who gets in the way, and that includes the rebels. I still have one last chance. I watch as a trickle of blood begins to ooze from my fist onto the ground.

I hear voices arguing outside the door.

"He belongs to me! I should be able to speak to the boy whenever I wish!"

"But Miss-"

"But Miss nothing! I have paid an _exorbitant_ amount for this, and I shall not allow two dim-witted Peacekeepers to deny me my rights!"

The bald, golden-skinned woman bursts through the door, slamming it in the faces of the Peacekeepers behind her. She gasps when she sees me lying helplessly on my side in a small pool of blood, and quickly sits my chair upright. She is surprisingly strong for such a vain, elegant looking woman, for she makes the task look almost effortless.

"Peeta Mellark. I've been waiting a long time for the chance to speak with you alone." She pulls the other wooden chair up and sits across from me, studying my disheveled appearance. Her large, heavily lidded eyes are an unnatural pale gold that shimmers in swirls as if being stirred. Their metallic appearance makes them seem cold. She continues on, her eyes darting around the room. "There are obviously many things that need to be explained to you."

I gape at her. I want to scream. I want to lunge at her, to slice her neck, to strangle her.

I want to kill her.

"Who the _fuck_ are you, and what the _hell_ is going on here!" I snarl at her.

"My name is Enya Pellifer. I have been a Capitol based Rebel spy for five years. Myself and a team of Rebel spies that have remained in Snow's good graces have been ordered to rescue the Mockingjay and yourself and assassinate President Snow." She says in a hushed voice, careful to not let the Peacekeepers outside hear her.

"Ordered by whom? _Coin?_" I harshly whisper back. Just saying the president of Thirteen's name makes me tremble with rage.

"No. Alma Coin is dead. She was assassinated shortly after your capture when Capitol forces infiltrated our safe-house in District Two."

I can't help but feel a small pang of joy at this news. But I'm still confused. "If Coin's dead, who's been leading the rebellion?"

_Who abandoned us in the Capitol? _

"The new president of Thirteen and leader of the rebellion is a man named Gale Hawthorne."

_No._

I stare at her, speechless, fire exploding in my chest. I clench my fists tighter, letting the blades cut deeper into my palm.

_Gale Hawthorne escaped._

_Gale Hawthorne survived._

_Gale Hawthorne left us to die._

_Gale Hawthorne left _her _to die._

Enya takes my silence as an invitation to continue.

"After Katniss Everdeen, you, and most of the remaining Star Squad were abducted, Snow sent a surge of muttations and peacekeepers to regain control of District Two. With most of our troops stationed in the Capitol, we were unprepared for the attack. They infiltrated the rebel headquarters and were able to assassinate the President amidst all of the chaos. The surviving rebels retreated back to Thirteen to regroup. Hawthorne arrived days later with inside information and assumed the role of President and rebel leader. Since then he has strengthened and reassembled the rebel army to the point were we are once again ready to attempt to overthrow the Capitol. Over the past few months we have been sporadically attacking District Two and the Capitol in hopes of re-igniting the rebellion's previous fire within the other Districts. The rebellion has now become stronger than ever, and Snow's lack of money and resources has made him scared and desperate. We received word a few weeks ago of the auction, as well as his plan to make a hasty getaway once he acquired enough funds. Our plan _was_ to bid for you and Katniss, get you two to safety, and then assassinate the President as he made his final speech. However, after your little _addition_, Snow became suspicious and has ducked out early, and we have been unable to locate him. However, the amount of Peacekeepers has increased dramatically, making it impossible to end the auction early by taking Katniss before the bidding starts. "

I listen intently, willing myself to trust this strange woman. Willing myself to be relieved. But I just can't make the anger go away. They left us. They haven't even tried to rescue us until now. _Gale_ hasn't even tried to rescue us until now. He put the needs of the rebellion ahead of our _lives._ Ahead of the lives of those who fought beside him. Cressida and Tigris would not have been able to be rescued, no. They were killed to early on. But Pollux? He lasted months! Katniss and I, we lasted a year! We have been sacrificed by the rebels for the greater good. We have been allowed to be tortured, broken. And therefore I cannot trust this woman. I cannot trust the rebellion. I can only trust myself.

No matter if I believe this woman or not, there are so many questions eating at the back of my head that I can't help but ask. I need to know who else I need to be angry at.

"Is Haymitch Abernathy still alive?" I whisper, my trembling voice barely audible.

She pauses, looking down for a moment as if to recall the image of my former mentor. My heart races in my chest when I see the somber look on her face.

"Haymitch Abernathy is still alive, yes." I let out a small sigh of relief. "_However_, he has believed the two of you to be dead for some time now. The Capitol has mysteriously refused to give us any information on your livelihood or whereabouts since your capture. He took this as a sign that you both had been killed or were as good as dead. Especially after President Hawthorne's return. He hasn't exactly been completely sane since and has been living in Thriteen's mental facility for the past year."

"Maybe he's insane because of _President Hawthorne's _lack of interest in even attempting to rescue us!" I spit at her. "_Maybe_ he was driven mad with anger at _President Hawthorne_ for leaving us to die!"

She looks at me, flabbergasted at the viciousness of my tone.

I continue.

"What about Katniss's sister? What about Prim?" She looks at me, confused. "_Primrose Everdeen._ Is _Primrose Everdeen_ alive?" I want to shake her. The restraints dig into my wrists.

Recognition flashes across her face. She refuses to meet my piercing gaze.

"Primrose Everdeen is believed to have been killed when the Capitol square was bombed the night of your capture."

_No..._

_Snow did not lie._

_Prim is dead._

_And Katniss will never be the same again. Because the only person she really ever loved is dead. Gone. Forever._

I clench my jaw and turn my face away from Enya's sympathetic stare. I resent her sympathy.

I remember the promise I made to myself before the first games. That I would make sure Katniss would make it home to her sister again.

_Once again, I promise._

_I will make sure Katniss makes it home to her sister again._

I loosen my grip on the blades. Allowing myself to feel their weight in the palm of my hand. A strange feeling has rooted itself in my chest. One that I can only identify as doubt. Would dying be the right thing to do now? Now that, if I let myself believe what Enya has told me, there may be a different way for us to escape this? For us both to live? To grow back together again?

Both Enya and I jerk when we hear a loud thud outside of the room, followed by a second.  
>A short, chubby man with a dark red toupee busts open the door. He stands in the doorway, panting and holding a large metal pipe. Behind him, two peacekeepers lay unconscious on the ground. He tries to speak several times without success.<p>

"Yan! What are you doing here? What happened? Where is the girl!" Enya asks frantically, her eyes wide with fear.

"The… Girl…" he says in between deep wheezing breaths, "We… were… outbid… The winning… Bidder… not… us…."

We stare at him in shocked silence. He finally straightens up, his breathing somewhat back to a normal rate. My vision starts to blur, rage bubbling up inside me.

"The rebel bidder was knocked out by a suspicious peacekeeper who noticed the mockingjay symbol on his cufflink. Someone else won the bidding."

My heartbeat pounds in my ears.

No.  
>No.<br>Not real. This can't be real.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree?_

"Katniss Everdeen is now in enemy custody."

I let the anger consume me.

With a surge of superhuman, venom-induced strength, I rip my arms out of the restraints, an unhuman roar bellowing from chest.

I lunge towards the man, blades at the ready.

Enya tries to stop me, but I have already sliced open his throat and have bolted out the door.

I will find whoever has taken her.

_And I will kill them._

_**There you have it! (fruitybunnieswithmilk: you totally read my mind. I guess i'm just predictable. haha) anyways, I'll try and get the next chapter out ASAP. It'll probably be Monday. So, in the meantime, if you have any questions/comments/concerns, review! :)**_

_**UPDATE!**_

**_I went ahead and put the next chapter (Ch. 12) up tonight as a treat. :) enjoy!_**


	12. Chapter 12: Katniss

_**UPDATE: So i went back and added a little bit and edited this chapter. I wrote it pretty late last night on a whim, and there were some mistakes that needed a-fixin'! No SUPER big changes though. Just some grammatical stuff and some added details.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>So I figured i'd give you another, very special update tonight!<strong>_

**_I figured it's finally a good time to do a Chapter in Katniss's POV. It's short though, just a snippet of what she's experiencing during/after the auction. _**

**_So, here you are, and I hope you enjoy!_**

The auction went by in a blur.

I remember seeing Peeta strapped to a chair. I remember hearing him scream my name. But I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I would have broken down again. I would have let these _people_ see me vulnerable. And that is never going to happen. Even if my plan to kill myself and Peeta doesn't work out and I end up an avox or some sort of sex slave. I will not show emotion. I will not give them the satisfaction.

In fact, I don't think I ever even let Prim or Gale see me _truly _vulnerable. The only people that have ever been allowed to see me at my weakest were Haymitch, Finnick, Joanna, and Peeta; Especially Peeta.

Peeta Mellark has seen me and has been there for me during my darkest moments. I only wish I could say the same for myself.

I was not there for him when he was in his darkest place. And I've hated myself every day for it.

But I'm here for him now. We're in this together. We're a team. The two of us.  
>Only the two of us.<p>

Before I went on stage, a man came to visit me. He was a short, round-faced man with a cheesy, badly made blood-red toupee that made me want to gag. He told the Peacekeeper assigned to guard me that he was needed on stage, and the idiot actually believed him. The little stump of a man introduced himself as Yan, and took off his toupee to reveal a sparkly tattoo of a Mockingjay, signifying that he was a rebel. I was shocked at first, yes. But I no longer trusted the rebellion after their desertion of Peeta, Pollux, and me. I refused to speak to him and barely listened as he told me the rebels "plan" to kill Snow and rescue us. He didn't explain anything else. Not why they hadn't come to our rescue sooner, or who was still alive after they failed one year ago. I cannot trust him, I cannot trust them, because the rebellion has failed too many times for me to believe they will be able to succeed with their plan. But I know that _I_ will succeed with my plan. I trust only myself.

I wanted to ask him about Prim. I really did. Even if I didn't trust him to save us, maybe he would know if she was still alive.

_If_.

But when I opened my mouth to ask, my platform began to rise, and I lost my nerve.  
>I almost didn't want to know if she was alive or not, because if I found out she was alive, then <em>I <em>may want to live again. I would start to _hope_ again. And if I started to hope again, and the rebels failed to save us...

No.  
>Prim is dead.<br>My little sister is dead, and tonight, Peeta and I will escape this place and I will see her again. I will see them all again. Rue, Finnick, Pollux. Everyone.  
>Peeta, and I will be safe.<p>

A song floats softly through my aching head.  
>I sing it in my mind.<br>To Rue. To Prim. To Finnick. To Pollux. To everyone who has lost their life in the midst of this war. In the midst of the Capitols games.

I sing it to Peeta. _My Peeta_. The Boy With The Bread.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
><em>_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
><em>_Lay down your head, and close your eyes  
><em>_And when they open, the sun will rise_

When I saw Peeta onstage, I smiled softly at him. I wanted to be strong for us. I wanted him to see that I was okay. That we'd be okay.

I allowed a few tears to fall, yes. But I kept my face as stony and cold as I could manage while I listened to his broken screams as he was pulled backstage. At almost the same time, both Snow and a golden-skinned woman who had been sitting beside him stood up and also disappeared backstage.

I wiped my tears and stood tall throughout the bidding. I closed my eyes and transported myself somewhere else. To my lake in the woods. Prim and Rue were playing with Finnick in the water, splashing each other and playing, While Peeta and I lie peacefully beside each other on the bank in a patch of wildflowers, soaking up the sun's warmth and lazily tracing circles on each other's skin. We listen to Pollux singing as his angelic voice drifts towards us with the breeze. It was a perfect place. A safe place. A place where we are not broken. Where he has two working legs and I have two seeing eyes. A place where we are whole.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
><em>_Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
><em>_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
><em>_Here is the place where I love you_

I was yanked from the dream when I was yanked offstage.

Apparently I had been sold.

So now here I am, sitting a dark, windowless concrete room, not unlike the my old cell in the Capitol dungeons, strapped to a chair, waiting.  
>Waiting to see if the rebels plan actually worked. Waiting to see if Prim was alive.<p>

_Waiting to see Peeta again so that I could share with him the nightlock pill that the Capitol had apparently not detected inside the tiny pocket Cinna made on my mockingjay suit._

I smile and silently thank the thick-headed Peacekeeper who was assigned to search my clothes after our capture. He was only searching for firearms and knives. He never once thought to check the tiny pocket containing my last hope.

Even then, Snow and his army were loosing their touch.

The door to the room opens, and a tall, thin man with a white suit and long, straight white hair slowly strides over to me. There's something disturbingly familiar about this man. Something that I can't quite pinpoint. His face is so altered by plastic surgery that I can't tell his true age, although by the whiteness of his seemingly un-dyed hair and his frail gait, he looks like he could be quite old. There's something about his eyes, though. Something that causes red flags to wave violently in front of my eyes. Something that makes me feel very, very uneasy. A very _familiar_ uneasiness.

He begins to circle me, like a ravenous vulture circling a dying animal, studying his prey. The dark, hungry look in his eyes makes my stomach churn. It sets me on edge.  
>One thing is quite obvious: This man is definitely <em>not<em> a rebel. This man is one-hundred percent Capitol citizen. This man is an enemy.

_Surprise, surprise.  
><em>_The rebels have failed once again._

I was right not to put my faith in them. They have once again proven to me that they cannot be trusted.

I keep my gaze steady and blank.

"My name," he says darkly, continuing to circle around me, "is Ulysses Snow." He stops in front of me and bends down to where his face is inches from mine.

Ulysses Snow.  
><em>Snow.<em>

Those eyes...

"I am the elder brother of President Coriolanus Snow. You may address me as either 'sir' or 'master' until I have decided whether or not I want you to be turned into an Avox."

I can see it now, the resemblance. It's the eyes; piercing and snakelike. However, there is something different about them. Something within them that his brother's eyes do not possess. This man has a ruthlessness and darkness in his gaze that even his awful brother does not.  
>A darkness that truly terrifies me.<br>This is a very powerful man. Even more so than the President himself.

And even though he smells nothing of blood and roses like his brother, his proximity makes me want to vomit.

I almost do when his slimy tongue stretches out and traces my lips, tasting me.

I struggle to hold my ground. I will not flinch.  
>I clench my teeth until my jaw screams at me in pain.<p>

His cold, boney fingers explore my face, tracing my scars, appraising me like a jeweler would a rare gem.

I falter. I jerk my head away at his touch. I flinch.

The corner of his thin lips rise in a sinister sneer, victorious.  
>I curse myself in my head.<p>

He begins to run his claws through my hair, when a commotion in the hallway causes him to freeze.

Ungodly guttural screams and growls accompanied by loud bangs and yelps echo throughout the hallway. Snow turns towards the door as it bursts open and Peeta barrels inside, his arms covered in blood and his eyes wild with fury, fixed on the man in front of me. He shoots like a missile across the room at Snow, who is surprisingly agile as he leaps out of the way and sprints out the door, his eyes sparkling with amusement and anger, willing Peeta to chase after him, knowing that a mob of Peacekeepers would be arriving any second.

Peeta lunges after him.

"PEETA! DON'T!" I scream, causing him to screech to a halt and whip around to face me. I couldn't let him do this. I couldn't let him kill anyone else. The old Peeta, _my_ Peeta would have never been able to accept what this Peeta has done. I don't want Peeta to die hating himself.  
>This Peeta is not my Peeta. His pupils are completely dilated, the veins in his neck and forehead are bulging and pulsating with adrenaline. I'm not sure if this is a venom induced episode or one induced by rage. Either way, this was not Peeta. This was a mutt.<p>

For a moment, I am paralyzed with fear. Even though I want to die, I am terrified that Peeta is about to kill me. I don't want to die like this, though. Not at the hands of the Peeta the has Capitol created. I want to die _alongside_ Peeta. The Peeta who has loved me since I was five. The Peeta who took a beating to give me bread.

He stands in front of me, grunting, his chest and shoulders heaving as he catches his breath. I look down at his blood-covered hands to see two small, sharp blade-like weapons clenched in his fists, wondering how on earth he was able to obtain them.

"P-Peeta… It's Katniss…" I whisper softly. I am unable to move due to the fact I am still very much tied to a chair. I must do something to calm him, though. So, i close my eyes and start to sing.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_  
><em>A bed of grass, a soft green pillow<em>  
><em>Lay down your head, and close your eyes<em>  
><em>And when they open, the sun will rise.<em>

His begins to slow.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_  
><em>Here the daisies guard you from every harm<em>  
><em>Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true<em>  
><em>Here is the place where I love you.<em>

He squeezes his eyes shut.

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_  
><em>A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray<em>  
><em>Forget your woes and let your troubles lay<em>  
><em>And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.<em>

He unclenches his fists and lets the blades fall to the ground.

_Here it's safe and here it's warm_  
><em>And here the daisies guard you from every harm<em>  
><em>And here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true<em>  
><em>Here is the place where I love you.<em>

He opens his eyes. His pupils have returned to a normal size.  
>He slowly glides over to me, dropping to his knees while tears stream down his face.<br>He gently lays his head in my lap.

"Katniss…" he whispers, his voice trembling, "shes dead. P-Prim is dead. I'm so sorry Katniss…" his shoulders begin to shake as he sobs silently into my lap.

My breath catches in my throat.

_She's dead.  
><em>_She's really dead.  
><em>_And soon, we will be too._

I feel the weight of the pill in its tiny pocket against my collar bone.

I close my eyes and start to sing.

_Are you, are you  
>Coming to the tree?<em>

_**Okay, there you go! hope you liked it! :) Let me know what you think!**  
><em>


	13. Chapter 13: Nightlock

_**Hello there everyone! So this chapter is a little short, but I wanted to go ahead and get an update out tonight. Thanks to all who reviewed! :) Loving the all positive feedback! So here you are! enjoy!**_

"_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree?  
><em>_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.  
><em>_Strange things did happen here  
><em>_No stranger would it be  
><em>_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."_

The beautiful, haunting melody rips through me, a violent river that carves valleys through the mountains of debris that construct my broken mind, only to flood my chest with a deluge of it's dark and turbulent waters.  
>I strain to lift my heavy head as she continues her lament.<p>

"_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree?  
><em>_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.  
><em>_Strange things did happen here  
><em>_No stranger would it be  
><em>_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."_

Through a haze of tears, I look up at her. All of the determination and fire that had found it's way to her has left. It has gone out in a puff of smoke. It has deserted her, along with so much else.  
>Along with so many others. First, her father, followed by her mother. And now her sister. The rebellion. Gale. Who is left to fight for her? Who does she have left to fight <em>for.<em>

The ocean surrounding my heart begins to boil.

Me. She has me. Peeta Mellark. No matter how broken and tainted I have become. I must not leave. I must not disappear. I must not desert her. I can't. I won't. So I wipe my eyes with the back of my arm, and I stand up. Her gaze remains blank and distant as she softly caresses the air with her voice.

"_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree?  
><em>_Where I told you to run so we'd both be free."  
><em>

She is no longer the Mockingjay,  
>She is a nightingale with a broken wing, grounded by loss, unable to fly.<br>I must protect her. I must help her fly.

The Peacekeepers will be here any second. I frantically survey the room for anything that would buy us time. We just need a little time.

I break a leg off of the wooden table and slide it through the door handle. It may not hold for long, but it may hold just long enough. I guess we'll find out soon. My mind is racing, trying to determine my next move without being lulled into distraction by Katniss's somber song.

"_Strange things did happen here  
><em>_No stranger would it be  
><em>_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."_

I desperately claw at the bloody blades that I had dropped as I hear the door begin to rattle and muffled voices begin to call our names. The golden charms are nearly glued to the floor, and my fingernails, which have been bitten down to nubs, are unable to get underneath them. I turn to Katniss, whose catatonic stare slowly finds its way to me.

The thudding on the door has gotten harder. Louder.

_Tick tock, Peeta._

"Katniss!"

Her eyes remain empty as she continues to sing.

"_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree?"_

"Katniss, Please!" I cry desperately as I grope wildly at the only weapon I had left. The pounding on the door grows stronger and I can see the table leg begin to bend with strain.

"_Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me."_

My heart leaps when finally the blade lifts up off the ground and I am able to grasp it. I immediately rush over to Katniss and begin to frantically yet delicately saw off her restraints. The thudding has ceased, however the commotion outside the door has become louder. Katniss leans into me and closes her eyes as she whispers the final lines of the haunting hymn into my neck, just underneath my ear. Her restraints flop off her wrists.

"_Strange things did happen here  
><em>_No stranger would it be  
><em>_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."_

I shudder at her sudden closeness and the soft tickle of her breath as it meets my skin. I close my eyes.

"Katniss…" I move into her, placing my trembling hand to the back over her head, weaving my fingers through her luscious dark waves of hair. Her lips tenderly graze my jawline and her hands crawl up the back of my neck, striking a match deep within my core. My heart thunders against the walls of my chest. The thumping on the door has resumed even harder than before. My grip on the blade tightens.

I have to do it soon. I have to kill her, then myself. I have to. This is the right thing to do.

_Isn't it?_

"Peeta?" Katniss whispers into my neck before leaning back to look into my eyes. She's smiling dreamily. Her eyes are glazed over.

My stomach churns with uneasiness. I don't like her expression. She looks…gone…dead.

The table leg in the door begins to splinter.

"Nightlock…" she glances down to the tiny pocket in her suit, where I notice a tiny, almost unnoticeable bulge. My heart drops into my stomach.

_The pill…_

The table leg snaps, causing us both to jerk away from each other.

The door bursts open.

It's now or never.

Katniss's mouth darts to the small zipper.

Panic suddenly surges through me, causing my hand to shoot out and her teeth to sink into my flesh. I cry out in pain, but my hand remains blocking her from reaching the pill.

We both look at each other, panting, with panic and confusion. Her horrified eyes asking me the same question I'm asking myself…

"K-Katniss…"

_Peeta…  
><em>_What have you done?_

"Peeta Mellark! Katniss Everdeen!" I whip around to meet the pale gold eyes of Enya Pellifer, wielding a very large knife, with blood covering half of her body. A tall, muscular man in a black suit stands behind her, his eyes darting up and down the hall.

"Enya, we don't have much time before they send a new wave of Peacekeepers down, or worse, sound some sort of alarm. We need to get them out of here _now _if we are to have any hope of getting out of here alive!" The man yells to Enya desperately, who has been cautiously studying Katniss's and my odd expressions.

Before I can contemplate my actions, I rip my hand from the Mockingjay suit, causing the pocket to tear and the pill to fall to the ground.

I stomp on it, crushing it, along with our last hope and any chance of happiness we could have had, into powder.  
>I stare at my foot. Not wanting to claim it as my own.<p>

I've broken my promise.

I just _can't _let Katniss Everdeen go. No matter how much she wants me to. No matter how much I need to.  
>I just cant let her die...<p>

I am completely and utterly disgusted with myself.  
>Katniss will never forgive me for this.<br>I will never forgive myself.

_Im so sorry, Prim._

__Against my better judgement, I allow my eyes to meet Katniss's gaze.

She's looking at me exactly like she did when I tried to strangle her after I was hijacked, her eyes wide with disgust, confusion, and fear.  
>She hates me.<br>So, when the shiny memories start to bubble in the back of my brain, I do nothing to stop them. I am a mutt. I am a monster. I deserve to be treated like one.

I have failed.

I squeeze the razor blade, wanting it to cut through me, wanting it to drain all of the blood from my body. The shiny memories evaporate, leaving me only with self-loathing.

Enya's booming voice screaming our names snaps me back to reality.

"Katniss, Peeta, you need to follow us. We need to get you two out of the Capitol center and into the sewer system so that we can make our way to the hovercraft retrieval-point where President Hawthorne will be meeting us to take us back to Thirteen."

**_Ill try and get the next chapter out by Wed or Thurs. It'll be a pretty hefty chapter, so it may take some time. :) You know what to do now! (review! hehe)  
>Thanks for reading! <em>**


	14. Chapter 14: Escape

_**Heeeey everyone. So, I am SO sorry it has taken me so long to update. I had a crazy week (multiple midterms), and decided to use this weekend to catch up on sleep. Plus this chapter took forever for me to write. Haha. So yeah, I'm really sorry I made ya'll wait for so long, and I'm hoping that I'll be able to get chapters out sooner this week and that you like this one! Thanks to all who read/reviewed/etc! This chapter is going to be in Peeta's POV first, and then will switch to Katniss later. So, Enjoy! :)**_

* * *

><p><strong>Peeta<strong>

Neither Katniss nor I make any moves to follow Enya. We are both rooted to the floor, confused. Katniss is staring at Enya, with an incredulous expression on her face. It occurs to me that she did not know about Gale's rise to power in Thirteen. She wasn't even sure that he was even alive.

I wonder if finding out Gale is alive will give her the incentive to live…

I suppress the anger and hurt that churns the acid in my stomach.

I do not deserve Katniss Everdeen. Not after I've failed her. But neither does Gale Hawthorne. Not after he left us in this hellhole for a year.

I shake the thought from my mind. Now is not a good time to be getting jealous. I have no right to be getting jealous.

Enya looks expectantly and then impatiently at our unmoving forms before turning and nodding to her associate. The man beckons down the hallway, and a clamor of footsteps makes its way towards us.

Three men enter the room, all garbed in extravagant Capitol attire, and slap peculiar looking cuffs on my already raw wrists. Katniss has seemingly snapped out of her daze, however, remains un-cuffed. She stares curiously at my cuffs for a second before her eyes widen with terror.

"I'm sorry that it had to come to this, but we have been ordered to get the Mockingjay out alive. And to do so, we _must_ leave immediately. We must get you out of here at any cost. Also, Peeta Mellark, you murdered a very important rebel spy and dear friend of mine when you ran out on me earlier, and for that you will be punished." I look suspiciously down at the cuffs, which have been woven by a very thin, strong, _familiar_ shiny wire… The same wire that formed the cage we have spent the past month being fattened in. My eyes widen with fear as I watch Enya's hand go to a small button on the belt of her dress.

"KATNI-" A sudden, sharp pain silences me as electricity courses through my veins. It's a significantly smaller amount than I have been issued in the past, not enough to actually debilitate me, but enough to make me jerk and twitch, as well as make my my eyes water with pain.

It is also enough to upset Katniss.  
>She pushes herself between Enya and me, her eyes blazing with panic and fury.<p>

"Stop it!" she screams, "please, just stop it! I'll go with you! Just stop hurting him!"

Enya releases her hand from her belt cautiously.

"Thank you, Katniss. We don't want to make this any harder than it has to be."

She reminds me of Snow.

They are treating us just as the capitol has treated us. Doing whatever they want to us in order to get their way.  
>The rebels are only reminding us that they can never be trusted.<p>

I look at shamefully at Katniss, who refuses to meet my gaze.  
>Why is she doing this? Why is she still trying to save me when I had refused to 'save' her? Why doesn't she just let them torture me? I deserve every ounce of pain.<p>

The three Capitol men usher us out of the door with Enya in the lead. We half walk, half run through various dark, musty corridors and stairwells. It's hard for Katniss and I to keep up, seeing as we are both out of shape and I am being forced to run with a prosthetic leg, handcuffed, and under threat of being electrocuted. The Rebel spies push us forward, though, not allowing us to stop. I trip over my feet and fall to the floor multiple times, and every time, Katniss stops and helps me to my feet.

I don't understand her. She's gone from suicidal to heroic in five minutes. I ruined her chances of being reunited with Prim, of being free from these games. And yet, she defends me. She helps me up. However, she still cannot seem to meet my eye.

The corridors seem to get lighter and lighter with every turn. Right as Enya turns around to tell us "We're almost to the back exit", a strange, clicking noise begins to echo in the distance, bringing us all to a screeching halt.

Judging by the look of panic on Enya's and the other rebel's faces, clicking is not a good sign.

"We need to get out of here, _now._ They've released the muttations."

Now in a full-out sprint, we continue to make our way towards an exit. The clicking grows louder and faster with every passing second, causing the rebels to push us faster and faster, causing me to trip more and more over my prosthetic leg. I was never the most graceful runner, but losing a leg has definitely not improved my agility. The three men, whom Enya has identified as Eli, Montigue, and Cue, basically have to drag me in order to keep up with Enya and the other man, Wexler. As we finally near a door that Enya points out is the rear exit, something very sharp slices across my arm, causing me to yelp with pain.

We turn to see a cloud of what looks like hummingbirds, but with needle-sharp beaks and solid gold bodies like a tracker jacker. One of the birds had raced ahead of the flock and cut me with it's razor-like wing.

Montigue, the largest of the three men, picks me up as we scamper desperately to the door.

Just as the flock is about to overtake us, Enya kicks open the door and we throw ourselves into the deserted Capitol streets. Cue, the last one out, slams the door behind him, smashing a few of the birds as they attempted to follow us out. Eli swats madly at one that had made it out, until Enya finally stabs it with her knife.

Katniss and I both collapse on the street, clutching at our sides, gasping for air. While the rebels are winded, they do not stop to catch their breath. We are in a very dangerous place, out here in the open. There is a slight chill and an eerie silence in the air that reminds me that we should not be here, that we need to move. A feeling only intensified when we hear the loud voices of Peacekeepers approaching.

Without hesitation, Montigue and Eli hoist Katniss and me over their shoulders and we continue down the ally with Wexler in the lead wielding a very lethal looking handgun. Enya follows closely behind him with her knife, followed by Eli with Katniss and Montigue with me, and Cue, the smallest of the men, bringing up the rear. We quickly and quietly make our way down the alley. We turn a corner into another dark alleyway with back doors to a few shops and a dead-end. Wexler hurries over to one of the back doors and begins to pick the lock with a tiny pin that he had used to attach a daisy to his lapel for the auction.

Montigue and Eli put me and Katniss down. I steal a glance at her.

She looks…worn out. She keeps rubbing her blind eye, as if doing so will magically heal it. As if she could rub her eyes and open them again and be out of this situation, back home with Prim and her mother in Twelve, or in the woods hunting with Gale. I wonder where I would want to be if I could be anywhere else right now. The first place that comes to mind is the training center roof, the night before the interviews before the Quell. That's the last happy moment I can remember. I remember telling Katniss that I wanted to live in that moment forever. And at the time, I did. I wanted to lie there with her head in my lap, lazily watching the sunset until we grew old and withered away, dissolving into the beautiful orange glow.

But would I want to go there now, if I could go back to any moment I wanted? Honestly, no. It was a sanctuary, yes. But so much had already happened. So much was looming over us.

I would go back even further. To a moment where I felt… true. It was one of those first defining moments in my life when I _knew_ who I wanted to be. I was happy.  
>I close my eyes and see her.<p>

_She's too skinny, yes. But she has the look of someone who has just been fed. Someone who is greatful.  
><em>_And I know why.  
><em>_She is reaching down to pick something up off of the ground. The bright yellow stands out against the bleak gray of everything else around it. She looks thoughtfully at the dandelion, her eyebrows squished together in concentration._

_How can she not hear the deafening rumble of my eleven-year-old heart?  
><em>_All of a sudden, everything stops._

_My heart.  
><em>_My breathing.  
><em>_My racing thoughts.  
><em>_They stop. They stop because she is smiling. She is really and truly smiling, something that I can only describe as hope shining brightly in her beautiful gray eyes._

_My heart begins to swell with pride. That smile was worth every beating I've ever taken from my mother. Every insult. Every put-down.  
><em>_What I had done for her was right._

After I watched her pick the dandelion, I remember going back home to the bakery. My mother was working the front room, so I snuck in through the back. I was trying to avoid her as long as possible since she was still probably mad about me burning the bread the day before. My father was in the back room alone, icing a new batch of sugar cookies. He chuckled when he saw me sneaking through the door.

_"Come here, son."_ He said, putting down the icing bag and patting the chair next to him. I cautiously sat down on the edge of the chair. He hadn't said anything about mother hitting me or about me burning the bread, although he had probably heard my mother screaming at me.

_"I saw her, you know. Running in front of the bakery yesterday in the rain with something stuffed in her jacket."_

I looked down at my hands. He lifted my chin with his calloused, flour covered fingers.

_"Peeta, there will be many times in your life when you'll question who you are as a person. Something may happen, or you may do something that will shake your very foundation."_ I look up at him, this wise, steadfast man.  
>My father.<p>

_"If or when you ever question yourself, Peeta, I want you to promise me that you'll remember this one thing. You, Peeta Mellark, are a brave boy. You are a brave, kind boy. And I am proud to be able to call you my son."_

Back then, I was strong. I was a giver of bread. A giver of hope. I did what was right, no matter the personal cost. I was the person that I had always wanted to be, that my father was proud to call his son.

Would he still be proud of me if he could see me now? Would he be proud if he could see what I have become?

"Okay, got it! Come on, lets move!"

Wexler ushers us inside where we are met with pitch-blackness. I feel someone grab my hand. It feels so small encased in my own.

_Katniss_

I cannot seem to shake this feeling of shame. No matter how many times I try and convince myself of my father words.

_I am a coward. I am a selfish coward who does not deserve to be loved by anyone.  
><em>_I am a monster. A mutt.  
><em>_No.  
><em>_I am a brave man. A brave kind man that my father would be proud to call his son._

I pull her towards me, feeling the side of her face brush my nose.  
>My lips.<p>

"_I am so sorry, Katniss."_ I whisper into her face.

She stands completely still for what seems like hours.  
>Days.<br>Years.  
>Decades.<br>Centuries.

What is going through her head? Does she hate me? Does she  
>I am unable to see her expression until someone flicks on a light.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Katniss<strong>

"_I am so sorry, Katniss."_

He breathes the words into my skin. They melt into me and wind themselves around my heart, squeezing, constricting.

Yes, I wanted to die. I was going to take the nightlock, and be reuinited with my baby sister. My beautiful Primrose.  
>But he stopped me. He ripped away my last hope and crushed it under his shoe.<p>

I couldn't believe it. He agreed. He understood why I- why _we_- needed to die. And yet, he stopped me. He betrayed me.  
>At first, I hated him. More than I hated anyone. More than I hated the capitol. Snow. Peeta Mellark was the last person in the world I trusted, and he betrayed me.<p>

But then, a bomb was dropped into my lap. A delicate silver parachute.  
>Gale was alive.<br>And Gale was the President.

I felt so many things. Excitement turned into confusion, which turned into pain, which turned into fury.  
>Which turned to shame.<p>

I was selfish, wanting to die. I was selfish in thinking that Peeta wanted the same. When I reached for the pill, I was thinking only of myself. I would have left Peeta behind. I would have left everyone behind.

Yes, Prim was dead. I've spent the past year reconciling myself with that fact. Yes, I was momentarily hopefull she may be alive after finding out Snow lied about Peeta, but deep down, I think I knew. I was in denial.

But If Gale is alive, and Peeta is alive, that means more people could still be alive.

Haymitch. My mother.

In killing myself, yes I would have seen my sister again. Yes, I would have escaped and been set free. But I would have hurt them.  
>This war has already hurt them enough.<p>

My shame only reverted back to fury when the rebels once again proved that they couldn't be trusted. They were using Peeta to get to me. Just like the Capitol  
>Just like Snow.<p>

I wonder for a moment if Snow fled. I then wonder what became of his vile brother. Would he assume the role of President? Would he prolong this war?

Someone flicks on a light, and I turn to look at Peeta.

Peeta. My boy with the bread. Dear, sweet, kind, strong Peeta, looking at me with such guilt and shame is his beautiful blue eyes.  
>He never deserved any of this.<p>

I lean my forehead against his. I want to tell him so much. I open my mouth to speak, but Gales face pops into my head, silencing me.

Gale is alive.  
>Gale is president. How long has this been? Is he the one I should blame for leaving us in the capitol for so long?<br>I can blame him for one thing though. These rebels are hurting Peeta because of Gale, who has ordered them to save _me._ Not Peeta.

"Katniss! Peeta! Wexley! Montigue! Eli! Cue! This way!"

Enya is kneeling on the dusty ground, holding open a wooden trap-door revealing a long, dark staircase.

The door busts open and a wave of white is upon us.  
>Peacekeepers.<p>

It all happens so fast.  
>Cue shoves us all down the stairs and slams the door, leaving him alone to face the mob of Peacekeepers.<br>Enya locks it and urges us to run.

As we run down the stairs, we hear Cue's screams as the Peacekeepers beat him to death.  
>I never let go of Peeta's hand.<p>

I did not know Cue. I did not trust Cue. I did not like Cue.  
>But I cant help but think that that was one more person who has had to die because of me.<p>

The screaming becomes fainter and fainter as climb deeper and deeper down the stairs.

Finally, the stairs end, and we empty out into what I know to be the Capitol sewer system.  
>I've been here before.<br>We've been here before.  
>I turn to Peeta, who's face is softly lighted by the dim flickering lamps lining the walls.<br>I watch him as he fights an internal battle with Peeta-the-mutt.

This place is filled with too many bad memories. The lizard mutts whispering my name. Listening to the avoxes get torn apart.

_Finnick._

I fight back the urge to vomit.

We continue on at a light jog, constantly looking over our shoulders, cringing at the loud clattering of our footsteps echoing throughout the tunnel.

Peeta's grip on my hand tightens. We aren't going very fast. Peeta's leg is obviously hurting him, and holding my hand while they are cuffed is awkward for him. His cuffs rub against my wrist.

"We're almost there. " Wexler points to a tall, lanky figure standing in the distance near a ladder.

My stomach churns.  
>The figure sees us coming, and begins to jog over to meet us.<br>He may be a little thicker, more muscular, than I remember, but his awkward gait as he runs is still exactly the same as it has always been.  
>He slows as he approaches us, his face coming into the light.<p>

His familiar gray eyes, so much like my own, lock onto mine, his brow furrowing with guilt as he takes in my injured one.  
>I stop.<p>

I want to throw myself into his arms. To absorb every inch of him.  
>I want to jam my fists into his face. To rip out his throat.<br>I want him to feel every ounce of pain that I have had to endure over the past year.

He slowly approaches me, his eyes wide with wonder and pain, lifting his hand cautiously up to touch my cheek.

It's already too late when I notice Peeta has let go of my hand.

_**There you are! Hopefully I'll be able to get out the next chapter A LOT sooner. But I know now not to promise anything! haha. Alright, now you know what to do! Review review!**_


	15. Chapter 15: The Power of Words

_**So I've been listening to a lot of Mumford and Sons lately, and while I was writing this chapter, I had this one verse and the chorus from "White Blank Page" stuck in my head that I thought was perfect in describing what post hi-jacking Peeta must be thinking (to me at least). So, I figured I'd share it with you since it sort of inspired this chapter. **_

"_**White Blank Page" by Mumford and Sons **_

_**Her white blank page  
><strong>__**And a swelling rage, rage  
><strong>__**You did not think when you sent me to the brink, to the brink  
><strong>__**You desired my attention, but denied my affections, my affections**_

_**So tell me now where was my fault,  
><strong>__**in loving you with my whole heart?  
><strong>__**Oh, tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?**_

* * *

><p><em><strong><strong>Gale Hawthorne.  
><em>He steps toward her.

Sound.  
>The only sounds I can hear are my ragged, uneven breaths as air fights it's way out of my screaming lungs, and the pounding of my flaming heart as it slams against the walls of my chest.<p>

I feel _everything_.  
>White-hot blood and adrenaline coursing through my veins, causing them to burn and blister.<br>Sweat, squeezing its way out of my angry pores, dripping down my feverish skin.  
>Pain and blood, oozing their way out of my eager wrists as the metal cuffs cut deeper into my skin.<p>

I watch, my eyes set ablaze.

His rough, well-fed hand begins to rise to brush her flushed cheek. The same cheek that he has caused tears to run down, tears that I have been there to brush away. The same cheek that has been beaten and scarred by his desertion, by his cowardice. The same cheek that I have yearned for, that I have caressed, that I have kissed.

He has not the right to touch her sacred cheek.

A switch is flipped.  
>A nerve is hit.<br>A fuse is lit.

It all happens so fast, yet to me, everything happens in slow motion.

_Tick  
><em>I latch on to Enya's belt with my tethered hands, making sure to miss the button that sends electricity through my cuffs.  
><em>Tock<br>_I tear it from her waist and run at him. _Gale Hawthorne.  
><em>His rising hand slows and I toss the belt aside. I distantly hear someone calling my name, telling me to stop.  
><em>Tick<br>_But I can't stop. I am being controlled by the darkness within me. I am but a stringed puppet, and hatred is my puppeteer.  
>My master.<br>There's a _whoosh_ and then a sickening _crack_ as my arms swing around and the hard metal of my cuffs collide with his temple.  
><em>Tock<em>

He crashes to the ground, blood seeping from his skull. Enya and Eli rush to his crumpled form, while Montigue and Wexler grab my arms, restraining me as I struggle to free myself, to break free, to kill.

A sharp, stinging pain in my cheek causes time to resume it's normal pace

Katniss stands between Gale and me, her eyes wild with fear and anger, along with a fierce protectiveness I have rarely seen in her. She clutches her reddened hand as angry tears stream down her flushed cheeks.

Katniss Everdeen had slapped me.  
><em>Hard<em>.

_Tick tock, Peeta.  
><em>_Tick tock  
><em>_Why so shocked?  
><em>_Didn't you hear screams?  
><em>_She told you to stop._

However, instead of feeling remorse, I am consumed by two emotions I have felt all but too many times before.  
>Betrayal.<br>Betrayal, and a tightness in my chest that I have learned to associate with heartbreak.  
>Katniss Everdeen had come to the defense of <em>him.<em>

"How could you!" I spit the words at her, they taste like bile in my mouth. "How can you _defend _him! After everything he's done!"

"You don't understand Peeta!" She responds with equal fervor, "Gale is _family_. I can't just let someone hurt my family!"

Family.  
>I used to have family.<p>

"What about me, Katniss? I thought I was your family! "

"You both are!" Her eyes glaze over with sadness. "I don't have much family left, and I _can't_ let any more of them die!"  
>She screams, "You just… You wouldn't understand, Peeta!"<p>

Her words slap me square across the face, causing more damage than her hand could ever do.  
>They cut into my skin like a whip.<br>Like a knife.

I recoil.

I want to ask her why I wouldn't understand, but I know. I know what she meant.

_My name is Peeta Mellark. My entire family is dead. They are dead because of a war I helped start. They are dead because of me.  
><em>_My name is Peeta Mellark and I have no one. No one but her.  
><em>_At least, so I thought._

She stares at me, her hand clasped over her mouth, her eyes wide and her cheeks red and wet with scraps of leftover anger and newfound regret.

"Why…Why would you say that to me?" I say, barely a whisper, turning my face away from her and closing my eyes, attempting to stall the torrent of tears that threaten to spill over. Yes, they are tears of pain. But they are also tears of anger.

A gut-wrenching ache throbs inside of me. My vision blurs and shiny memories begin to stir. I open my swimming eyes, boring my gaze into her. She looks away, her face glowing pink, ashamed. "What about the past three years, Katniss? Look at everything we've been through… Look at everything I've done for you!" Words that have been sitting, waiting, piling up in the back of my head, ever since after I was hi-jacked and began to remember, finally pour forth from my mouth. "I _love_ you, Katniss! I know it was never like that for you. I knew that on the outside, to everyone else, all that we had was an act, a forced relationship. Fake. I knew that you _needed_ me to keep your _family_ alive," my voice begins to crack with emotion.

With hurt.  
>With anger.<p>

I continue. My words are the shattered remnants of my mind and heart. I present them to her, this time in the form of a eulogy.  
>A eulogy for something that, with time, could have grown into something beautiful and true.<br>Something that has been tainted beyond recognition.

"But over the past three years, after going through so much together, I felt like we really _had_ something. Something more than just the mutual desire to live and protect our loved ones… Something more than just… than just a _friendship…" _My voice comes out as strained.  
>Pained.<p>

She lets out a strangled sob, her face burried in her trembling hands, and for the first time ever, I feel no desire to wipe away her tears. No desire to hold her, to soothe her pain.

Gale begins to stir. He groans and holds his blood-soaked head in his hands. Enya yells something at Eli, who quickly scampers up the sewer ladder and out of sight.

Shiny memories begin to weave their way into the front of my mind, tangling themselves up in my thoughts, igniting a slowing growing fire within my core. My pulse races and I feel my pupils begin to dilate as the venom consumes me.

I shoot my words at her now, like bullets.  
>Like one of her arrows.<br>Aiming to kill.

"I've given you everything! Everything! And all you've given me in return is pain!" I watch as her swollen, puffy grey eyes turn a shiny crimson. I struggle against Montigue and Wexler, who have both been nearly silent through my speech, to raise my bloody, cuffed wrists and shake them in her face. She takes a step back and trips over Enya's leg, causing her to sob even harder. "See? See these chains? See how they cut into me? All of this! This is because of you! You're right, I wouldn't understand, because I have no family! I have no family because of _you_!" In my head, her sobs turn to laughter as she bares her razor sharp teeth.

_Katniss Everdeen is a mutt.  
><em>_I snarl at her, her red eyes gleaming with the desire to kill.  
><em>_To kill _me_.  
><em>_I must kill her first._

_I lunge for her throat._

_I jerk back. There's something holding me down.  
>I look behind me in horror to find the rotting corpses of my mother, father, and brothers, along with Prim's, Finnick's, Pollux's, Cue's, and other familiar faces of those who died in Twelve, grasping at my arms, dragging me across the blood-soaked sewer floor as mutt Katniss cackles manically at my helplessness. My father, his once lively blue eyes blank and dead, stabs me with something… Something that makes my eyelids heavy and my muscles weak…<em>

My eyelids begin to flutter as I am pulled up the ladder and out into the blackness of night. I watch, my vision slowly becoming less shiny and more blurred, as Katniss pulls Gale out of the manhole and leans him on her shoulder as they make their way past me.

She glances down at me momentarily as she passes, her water-logged eyes back to their different shades of gray, yet full of a deep, deep sadness and pain.  
><em>Loss.<em>

They toss me into what I think may be a hovercraft, tethering me tightly to the floor.  
>I am unable to keep my eyes open any longer.<br>I let the night consume me as I finally am freed from the Capitol.

I came in a broken man.  
>And now I leave.<br>As a man, yes.  
>But as a man who is broken, alone, betrayed, hurt, and ruined.<p>

A man like that  
>Well…<p>

_A man like that would rather be dead._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Yes, Yes, I know, super depressing chapter. I'd like to remind you all that this is not meant to be a fluffy, happy story. Katniss and Peeta are both very damaged, and still have a lot off issues with themselves and each other that they haven't sorted out yet. Plus, Peeta's about to be in a whole mess of trouble for killing a rebel spy AND attempting to kill 'President Hawthorne'. So, next chapter, there are going to be some long-awaited reunions (Haymitch!) and some more explanations about the warGale and such. So, hope you liked the chapter! Now, review!**_


	16. Chapter 16: Blame

_**Hello! First off, the amount of reviews, story alerts, favorites, etc. was just amazing! Thank you all SO much for reading, and you have no idea how happy I am that you like the story so much. It being my first fanfic, I had little hopes for people actually liking this story. Also, I'm SO SO sorry its taken me so long to update I've been lazy/sick all break. Damn allergies! Haha. Plus I wanted to make this chapter perfect. Or at least, as good as I possibly could get it.  
><strong>_

_**So, at the request of one of my readers, here's a recap of what happened last chapter: Peeta had somewhat of an 'anger' episode and hit Gale in the head when he reached out to Katniss. Katniss screamed for him to stop, but he ignored her. She slapped him. He felt betrayed, and Katniss made a jab about his family that sent him over the edge. He had an episode and tried to kill her, but what he thinks are the bodies of his dead family and friends held him back, tranquillized him, and put him on a hovercraft back to Thirteen.**_

_**So yeah, that's the gist of what happened in the last chapter, sorry if anyone got confused!**_

_**(CallMeObsessed/ anyone else who thought Katniss seemed OCC when she stood up for Gale): She stood up for Gale even though she was angry with him because she is very confused after seeing him again after so long. Gale is one of the few things she has left from her old life, and in this story, she does not know if/how prim was killed, only that it was by a bomb that could have possibly be made by rebels. And before their capture, Gale and Katniss were still very close. Yes, she is angry with him, but no, she does not want Peeta to kill him. So she stands up for him. At least, in this story that's why she does, haha. But don't worry, Gale is definitely not out of the woods yet with Katniss. **_

_**Anyways, here's Chapter 16! Its going to be in Katniss's POV. I toyed with the idea of it being in Haymitch's POV, but I'd rather just stick to Peeta and Katniss to prevent confusion. No Gale here though, wanted to focus on Haymitch :) **_

_**Enjoy**_

_**Oh, and by the way... HAPPY FREAKING HUNGER GAMES. :) Leaving for the Premiere in a few minutes :)**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Katniss<em>**

_It's done._

Breathe in.  
>Breathe out.<p>

My chest rises and falls under the colossal weight of everything I have done. Everything I have said.  
>I should be happy. I should be singing, dancing, rejoicing. I should feel light, weightless. I should be floating.<p>

_My name is Katniss Everdeen.  
><em>_I am free.  
><em>

But I don't very feel free. I do not feel very light, very weightless, curled up on this all too familiar, lumpy District Thirteen hospital bed.  
>I am not truly safe. Not while Snow and his vile brother still continue to exist. Not while the Capitol has power. I hug my knees and turn to face the muddy gray wall.<p>

District Thirteen.

On the outside, it is just a desolate, scattered mound of debris and rubble.  
>Beneath the surface, however, it is an intricately developed colony teeming with life.<p>

I never particularly fancied the district. They were built on the principle of eventual revenge and war, making them a strict, overly organized and serious people. I belong outside, in the woods, not underground hindered by so many rules and regulations. Also, The majority of the time I've been here, I haven't really been completely _here._ I've numbed myself, because I'm unable to face what has been forced upon me. Unable to think of anything other than the people I have lost.

Of how it's my fault.  
>Of how everything is my fault.<br>My hollow stomach begins to twist and turn.

_He _is not truly safe. Not after what he has done…

_Peeta.  
><em>_My Peeta.  
><em>_Where are you?_

I haven't seen Peeta or heard anything about him since we first arrived, which makes me very uneasy. After what I heard Enya say about killing a rebel spy, and after he hit Gale, whom I haven't seen since they carried him away after we landed… I'm not sure what will happen to Peeta. He had been knocked out after his episode and remained unconscious for the duration of the hovercraft ride. At the time, I was glad. I'm not sure what I would have said if I had the chance to talk to him. Although I deserved it, although I was ashamed at my own spiteful words, although I know it had been fueled by venom, his outburst truly hurt me. And after a full day of being alone in a hospital room with no one to talk to but very curt, busy doctors, I've had too much time to think about how true his words actually were.

Guilt slithers into my cheeks, setting them on fire.  
>It wraps its slimy hands around my aching heart.<p>

I take a deep breath, allowing myself to feel the pain I so deserve for hurting Peeta, with both my hand as well as my accidental outburst. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of it.  
>I knead the tightness in my chest as tears well up in my eyes.<p>

_Guilt's grip is never limp._

I hear distant footsteps outside my door, soft, dragging footsteps that are quickly interrupted by the heavy, quick footsteps and voices of concerned doctors. An argument erupts, and the doctors' austere, meticulous tones mingle with another voice. A voice that is first pleading, then furious. The voice's familiarity slaps me across the face, causing me to stiffen in alert.

"You _people_ have no authority! If she really is in that room, I deserve to see her! "

"Sir, she is weak! We have not yet been able to determine her mental stability-"

"I can tell you assholes right now that if she's alive, she is _not_ mentally stable! None of us are _fucking_ mentally stable, god damnit! Now, get out of my _fucking_ way!"

The only good thing that has come from being partially blinded is that my hearing abilities have increased rather noticeably on my left side.

I remember when I first noticed the change. It was a few days after they did it. After they blinded me. A few days after I watched Pollux get chopped up into tiny pieces. After I sang him to sleep, to death. After they showed me the video… the video of Peeta, _my_ Peeta, being beaten until he no longer moved, until he no longer could breathe. Until he was dead.

It was the first time I have truly given up after I found out my sister had been killed.

It was nearly time for a Peacekeeper to come and take me to the white room so they could begin my torture regimen. The sudden entrance of the Peacekeepers into my chambers usually surprised me. The walls were very thick. But not that time. I remember hearing the thud of heavy boots on the concrete of the hallway before they barged into my cell. The realization brought about a different sort of torture.  
>It made me remember the Quell. The force field. My lie to prevent the Capitol from knowing that I knew about the chink in the force field after I had shouted before Peeta ran into it.<p>

_It made me remember Peeta's silent heart._

I shudder, pulling my knees even tighter into my throbbing chest and squeezing my eyes shut. _Not real_. Peeta is alive.  
><em>For now<em>.

I listen. The footsteps and arguing have stopped, and just outside the door I hear the ragged breathing of a man I used to know, of a man who used to know me better than I ever gave him credit for.

The door creaks loudly as it slowly opens. I focus on breathing.

Breathe in.  
>Breathe out.<p>

I'd have to turn completely around in my bed to face him. But something stops me. I remain still, rooted to the bed by both fear and desperation. My eyes bore into the dingy gray wall. I'm scared to turn around. I'm scared that it wont be who I think it is, that the person I'm thinking of is actually dead. I'm scared that none of this is real. And if he were dead, if this weren't real, it would be my all my fault.

Too many things scare me these days.

He remains unmoving in the doorway. His breathing grows quicker and more ragged with every passing second.

_Tick.  
><em>_Tock._

The silence and tension become unbearable, poking me and prodding me until I'm unable to stand their cruel taunting any longer.

So, I whip around to face him.  
>My eyes lock with eyes that are too similar to my own.<p>

Same color. Gray. Stormy gray, the same gray found in those who share our birthplace, which is now just a pile of rubble blanketed by a soft layer of ever present coal dust.  
>Our eyes share more than just color now, though. They share the same emptiness, the same loss. We have both lost so much, so many people that we love. They share the same shock, for we both questioned whether or not the other was alive.<br>They share the same harrowing guilt, but for different reasons. For me, it is because so much of this, so much if his pain, so much of everyone's pain, is my fault. For him, it is because he had given up on me, on us, when his only job was to keep us alive.

Haymitch Abernathy had not been a very good mentor.

There's also a strange hardness and determination in his eyes I cannot determine the source of, adding to his usual reserved demeanor.

My first reaction is resentment. He promised to keep us safe. To keep _Peeta_ safe. He swore. _He_ was the one who made me realize that I had been treating Peeta unfairly after his hi-jacking. What had he been doing all this time? He looks so much older. Time has been unkind to my old mentor. It has warped his mind along with his features. His baggy eyes are rimmed with darkness. His forehead is creased with a permanent frown, permanent worry. Permanent sadness. Permanent grief.

My anger softens as I look at the wreckage of this man trying to hold it together in front of me. It melts into a pool at my feet.

Yes, Haymitch had given up. But, like Gale, he is also alive.

My feet twitch uncomfortably as they make contact the cold, hard floor. My legs tremble as I raise myself to stand. But I must stand. I must stand and face him. I must eventually face everyone who has wronged me, along with everyone whom I have wronged.  
>He inhales sharply, clenching his fists. He studies me, his eyes pooling with watery guilt as they linger on my scar and unseeing eye. He believes he is to blame.<p>

_Blame_.

I loathe the word. It plagues us, haunts us. We are so quick to give it away, to pass it along. Yet when we accept it, we accept all of it. It consumes us, even if it is not completely and wholly ours to accept.

He finally exhales.

The corners of his lips jerk up into a weak, trembling smile.

"You… You're looking a bit rough, sweetheart," he slurs, not through a haze of liquor, but through a thick layer of emotion.

His words cut through whatever tethers me to the ground and completely dissolves any remaining anger I was feeling towards him, Haymitch Abernathy, my broken mentor. I close the distance between us, knocking him backwards as I throw my arms around his neck. I can be mad him later. I can be mad at them all later. I have_ time_.

"You've looked better yourself!"  
>I sob into his shoulder.<p>

In true Haymitch fashion, he does not sob and cling as desperately as I do, but remains steady and reserved as he softly pats my back, as if the wrong move would cause me to shatter. Refusing to fall apart.  
>Why doesn't he just let go? Doesn't he know that I'm already broken?<p>

I've barely had enough time to quiet my sobs before Haymitch hastily leads me over to the bed and pulls up a chair to face me, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. His gaze is hard, as if he has prepared for a fight he knows is inevitable. I wipe the tears from my eyes, waiting for one of us to break the heavy silence. He studies me cautiously for a moment, his eyes hard, and leans in closer. His almost panicked expression causes my heartbeat to quicken.

"I know there are a lot of things we need to talk about, a lot of things I need to apologize for. But right now there isn't time. I have a lot to explain before they notice that I'm here," he says quietly and quickly, as if he doesn't want to be overheard.

"I'm listening."

"First, we need to talk about Peeta."

_Peeta.  
><em>_My Peeta.  
><em>Our constant mutual concern.  
>Yes, we definitely need to talk about Peeta.<p>

A grave look crosses his face and my chest tightens with anxiety.

"Well, the district is putting him on trial. They've see Peeta as a violent, murderous liability ever since his first stint in the Capitol, and his actions haven't exactly done anything to help his image. The man he killed was a_ very_ important rebel spy who had been in charge of advertising and propaganda in the Capitol. He's played a key part in increasing fear and doubt within the Capitol's walls without Snow or any of his cohorts noticing. He was also a dear friend to many of the ex-Capitol citizens here in Thirteen. After you landed, Gale was off to a heavily guarded ward of the hospital and has yet to be deemed 'physically and mentally stable'. So The Council has taken it upon _themselves _to charge Peeta based on Rebel Sargent Pellifer's accounts, and have already begun his trial."

"The Council… What do you mean 'The Council'? I don't-"

"When Gale first returned to Thirteen after Coin was assassinated in Two, there was a mad rush to determine who would be the next president. The Capitol forces were coming at us strong and we needed a leader immediately. Paylor, whom I personally supported, stepped in while the remaining military leaders of Thirteen threw together a hasty election. It was agreed upon that since Gale was a trained and accomplished soldier and had seen what had gone on inside the Capitolduring Squad 451's mission, he was the best fit to lead. However since he was not a "true" District Thirteen citizen, was barely twenty-one, and knew little of Coin's operations, a 'council' was developed from Coin's former 'associates' to assist and advise him in military and political matters and protocol."

An uneasy feeling has rooted itself in my stomach.  
>If this "Council" has anything to do with Alma Coin, everyone having anything to do with me is in danger.<br>_Especially _Peeta Mellark.

"Okay, well what makes them think they have the authority to try Peeta without Gale's consent?"

"Well it seems that over the past year The Council has be growing more and more influential over Gale. They were the ones who have been advising him to rebuild and strengthen the rebel army before rescuing you. And before he left for the Capitol, I heard that he enacted a law stating that in case of his incapacitation, control of Thirteen and the rebellion would pass to The Council until the president had recovered or until a new president could be appointed."

My head is swimming with all of this new information, piecing it together, trying to make sense of everything in my scattered mind. But one crucial thing is keeping me from understanding.  
>The Gale I knew would <em>never<em> have listened to some 'Council" made up of strangers. The Gale I knew was headstrong, rebellious. He would have never allowed someone else to tell him what was right.  
>The Gale I used to know would have never <em>abandoned<em> me.  
>But neither would the Haymitch I used to know<br>Neither would _many_ of the people I used to know.

I stand, confusion only fueling my anger.

"But why would Gale want to listen to this 'Council'? Where have you been all this time? What about Johanna? What about Beetee? Plutarch? Annie?"

He looks up at me calmly, his jaw clenched. "You mean all the people who cared about _you_?" he says with a bitter laugh. "After Gale returned from the Capitol, there was something off about him. He was heavily guarded at all times. It was nearly impossible to get a hold of him. The one time I was actually able to speak to him, he seemed so…timid, almost frightened. Traumatized. When I found out he was chosen to be president, I appeared before the council. I tried to convince them that he was unfit for the position. Instead of listening to me, they _took_ me, convinced everyone I'd gone mad! They took everyone besides Gale that was suspected of supporting _you, Katniss!"  
><em>We both stand, face to face, our eyes wide with the realization of just how loud Haymitch's voice had actually gotten.

Footsteps and frantic voices echo down the hall outside the door.

He grips my shoulders hard, shaking his words into me. "Katniss! You need to listen to me! You need to find Gale!"

Gale? I want to ask how finding Gale would help, how finding anyone but Peeta could possibly help...

"But Peeta-"

"No! Finding Peeta now won't save him! You have to find a way to get to Gale! He may be able to stop all of this! Right now it's the only way!"

I look down, fighting the tears threatening to fall.

He lifts my chin up lightly with his thumb and forefinger so that I must look straight into his watery gray eyes.

"Katniss. I'm so sorry this has happened to you, and I've hated myself everyday for not being able to help you. But now, we have to be strong. We have to be strong because we made a promise to each other and to ourselves that we would protect that boy. Peeta never deserved any of this." A tear spills over onto my cheek, and he gently wipes it away with the back of his hand. "Neither of you deserved any of this, Katniss"

The Door bursts open.  
>Rebel soldiers flood the room, grab my mentor by his arms, his hair, his legs, and drag him out the door.<br>I scream. I scratch. I bite. I kick.  
>I release the rage I have been suppressing for far too long on these soldiers.<p>

These men who call themselves rebels, but are just as bad as any Capitol Peacekeeper.  
>These men, this "Council" has let the idea of rebellion go too far. Through them, Alma Coin's struggle for power haunts me.<p>

_I blame them._

The soldiers throw me back before slamming the door in my face.  
>I scratch. I pound. I scream.<br>I have to get out. I have to find Gale. I have to find them all.  
>Johanna, Beetee, Annie, Plutarch… I have to find them.<p>

I have to save Peeta.  
>I will save Peeta, or I will die trying.<p>

As I collapse on the floor, sobbing with rage and frustration, I curse the rebels. I curse the Capitol. I curse this stupid war and everything that is being fought for. Was it freedom? I can't remember, and I don't want to remember.  
>Because now, for me,<p>

_Freedom is tainted._


	17. Chapter 17: Amidst The Rubble

_**UPDATE:**_

_**I've decided to do a little something special since this story is nearing 100 reviews. I know it's not a huge amount compared to some other stories, but for me, as a first-time writer, it's a semi-big deal! Haha. I've decided that if we can get to 100 reviews by chapter 20, i'll write an extra chapter or two in someone besides Peeta's or Katniss's POV. Or I'll do a chapter-o-fluff if thats what everyone wants (granted it would most likely be a flashback seeing as right now in the story there isn't really an environment for much fluff). Haha Let me know which character you really want to hear from, or if you'd rather me feature Katniss/Peeta, or if you have some other suggestion, review! :) I also post this on the next chapter so that those who don't go back and re-read updates on old chapters will see it :)**_

_**Hi everyone!**_

_**So this chapter is back to Peeta, starting off in a dream. Thanks to all who reviewed/read/favorited/ added this story to their story alerts! Keep it goin'! :)**_

_**Saw the movie this weekened! I thought it was pretty amazing, although the Peeta/Katniss moments occasionally seemed a little awkward. But other that that, it was GREAT and I can't wait to go see it again… and again and again :) Once I can scrounge up some money, of course. Haha, oh, the life of a poor college student.**_

_**Anyways, hope you like the chapter! Remember, We're back to Peeta!**_

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><p><em>Peeta,<br>__Where are you?_

I hear a girl softly calling to me in the distance. Her voice barely reaches me, as if it is weaving through a thick crowd, or seeping through the thin cracks and spaces in the busted, disheveled earth beneath my feet.

Although I have not been here since its destruction, although it is nearly unrecognizable, I know exactly where I am.  
>District Twelve.<p>

I stand stoically in the midst of the charred and greasy remains of the place I once called home.  
>It's so quiet here. So bright, yet so dark. So still. The sky is bright, too bright. Like the white-gray sky after a light snow. Yet the scene around me is so dark. The deep black color of soot and dark brown of burned, rusted metal.<p>

Snowflakes of white ash hover precariously around me, frozen in time, stuck in this hazy forgotten atmosphere.  
>Why don't they move?<p>

I approach the nearest flake with caution. Something about it seems eerily familiar to me. I can hear it calling me, feel it pulling me in.  
>As I draw nearer, it clicks.<br>I understand.

This is not a flake of ash at all. It is a remnant, a torn piece of a memory.  
>I hear it, I see it. The sound of my father's laugh, suspended in the air, just a particle of debris trapped in a warn-torn land.<p>

I lean in closer. I lift my hand to touch, to take this special memory away from this mountain of rubble and emptiness. This is a happy memory. It does not belong in this terrible, haunted place. But, as soon as my fingers are about to close around it, it floats deliberately out of reach. I try and try again, but every time, its drifts further away.  
>I become frustrated. Fear creeps into my skin. I become anxious.<p>

I frantically make my way through the rubble, examining each flake of ash as it floats gently away at my approach. Each flake is different. Each flake is a precious memory. All from my old life, all cherished. All there, yet all out of reach.

My father, teaching me to ice cakes.  
>My mother letting me to lick the bowl after she made her famous brownies.<br>My bothers wrestling with me in the patch of grass behind the bakery on humid summer nights when we had nothing better to do.  
>Back when we could just forget everything and be <em>young.<em>

I approach another flake.

A girl in a red plaid dress and a sweet song fill my ears.  
>I close my eyes, soaking it in.<br>Soaking her in.

_Peeta,  
><em>_Where are you?_

I snap my head towards the sound of the voice. It's so soft, so far away. Who is she? Her voice is so familiar, so taunting so haunted. Where is she? Across the mountain range of debris? Is she waiting for me on the other side? How did she get there? How did she get _here_?

Her voice gently wraps around me, sweet, soft and cool, like slightly melted ice cream, pulling me, beckoning me.  
>She wants me to look for her.<br>She wants me to find her.

I walk swiftly through the desolate streets, pushing through the flakes of suspended memories. I ignore them as they call out to me, begging me to rescue them.

_I'm sorry,  
><em>I plead to them, begging them to understand.  
><em>I have to find her, can't you hear?<br>__She's calling me…_

I glide down the broken, coal dust covered street toward what used to be the Seam, her old home, weaving through the wreckage of blasted and burned up shops and homes. I try to keep my eyes focused ahead, to ignore the signs that people once lived here. The shredded clothes, the broken dolls, the shattered mirrors, the burned up photos, the splintered and scorched furniture. All reminders of what I have done, what we have done. That the people that once lived here are now dead.

That people who I once knew, played with, talked to, smiled at, sold bread to… They are all dead. My friends and family are dead.  
>Cold. Stiff.<br>Gone.  
>They are dead, and I am to blame.<p>

_Peeta,  
><em>_Where are you?_

I'm getting close. Her voice has grown louder. Its pull on me is harder, its grip is tighter.  
>I begin to run. My leg screams as my prosthetic grinds mercilessly against my skin. But I don't care, I'm so close, I can feel it.<p>

All of a sudden, the everything darkens, and the bright gray sky warps into a thick, soupy red. Heat radiates around me. Everything is on fire, burning around me. I cry out as I feel something singe my arm. I look around in horror to see that the hovering white flakes of ashes have now become black, rimmed with flickering orange as they burn, falling to the ground. They are no longer little, comforting memories, but dark, terrifying memories that plague my nightmares.

_The sound of Cato's screams as mutts rip him to shreds.  
><em>_Johanna's sharp scream as electricity is pumped through her body.  
><em>_The gurgling howls of Darius, an old peacekeeper turned avox, as the Capitol tortures him until he is finally silenced. Dead.  
><em>_Bogg's legless, lifeless, blood splattered body.  
><em>_Tigris's melted corpse._

_And, of course, there's Katniss.  
><em>_Katniss, too thin, with skin the color of bone, leaning against a tree, melting in to the ground with the rain, starving, dying.  
>Katniss, screaming. Always screaming. <em>

I collapse to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest  
>I pound and claw at my ears, seeking an end to her screams.<p>

_Katniss, standing rigid and emotionless on a stage as hungry men leer and feast on her with their greedy eyes.  
><em>_Katniss, palm red and eyes wild, standing up for _him._ For Gale Hawthorne._

"NO!" I scream, pulling myself off the scalding ground, flailing my arms, batting at the falling ash.

_Peeta!  
><em>_Where are you?_

The voice is louder, scared, crying out for help. I start to run, yelping as the burning black ash cooks my skin and the memories scorch my heart.

_Katniss, her head split open, lying in a pool of blood.  
><em>_Katniss, running with a spool of wire into the darkness, into danger.  
><em>_Katniss, yelling for me to run as we are beaten and taken by the Capitol  
><em>_Katniss's screams echoing through a dark concrete room, every day, every hour, driving me mad._

_Peeta! Peeta!  
><em>_Where are you?_

I whip around the corner, so sure that she will be there waiting for me, her voice is so near, so close. However, no one is there. All that sits in front of me is rubble and soot.

Everything stops. The screaming, the burning. The sky returns to a murky white, and the ashes float higher and higher until they finally disappear.

_Peeta?_

My head jerks down to my feet, towards the relieved voice. I understand now.  
>It's <em>her<em> voice.

Prim's.

Something unexpected is poking out from the ground.  
>Against the blacked earth and devastation, the bright yellow flower looks so lost, so out of place. How could it have grown here? This earth is so burned, so broken, too enriched with the blood of those who once walked here. How did it survive?<p>

I bend down and lean in towards the tiny, beautiful yellow dandelion, my chest swimming with a vaguely familiar warmth.

_Peeta! Peeta!_

I left my head in confusion as Prim's voice becomes frustrated, deeper, and more masculine.  
>The scene around me becomes blurry and begins to fade into white, until all that's left is the dandelion and me.<p>

As I start to float away, into the whiteness, I make a promise to the dandelion.

_No matter what happens, I wont forget you.  
><em>_I won't let you die._

* * *

><p><em>"Peeta!"<em>

I moan, the soreness pulling over me like a sweater, like a blanket of lead._  
><em>

"_Peeta! Wake _up_!"_

My eyes slowly open to find, not the ruins of district twelve, but someone crouching above me, shaking my shoulders and lightly slapping my face to bring me to consciousness. However, my confusion is quickly replaced by fury as my mind registers who exactly is hovering above me.

"Wha… What the hell are you doing here? Where the hell am I?" I yell, shoving Gale Hawthorne off me and straight into the wall.

I hastily and clumsily get to my feet, rage and hatred burning in my chest. My mind races as I try and recall everything that happened before I was knocked out. I don't remember leaving the sewers, so I have to assume that I had some sort of episode. I usually black out during hi-jacking episodes, only realizing I've had one when I wake up really sore, or while being prepared for the auction, to a screaming Katniss. I'm also assuming that I was tranquillized, judging by my grogginess and blurry vision. But what triggered the episode?

My heartbeat thunders in my chest as I remember. I hit Gale. I was going to kill Gale. Katniss _slapped_ me. Katniss _stopped_ me.  
>But that didn't trigger the episode, something else did. Something she said.<br>The fight. Katniss and I had an argument. I remember.

_"I don't have much family left, and I can't let any more of them die!"  
><em>Her words slice through me once more, reopening the wound as I hear her shrill voice echoing in my aching head.  
><em>"You just… You wouldn't understand, Peeta!"<em>

The rage within me bubbles impatiently as my heart is squeezed by sadness, like it is annoyed that any other emotion would dare try to oppose it. It reminds me where I am, who is standing in front of me.

Other than Katniss Everdeen, Gale Hawthorne is absolutely the _last_ person I want to see right now.

We glare at each other, Him, a little more tentatively than me, who is glaring a little more... murderously. Both of us are fully aware that him being in the same room with me is a _tremendous_ risk.

He obviously has no idea how much I've changed since he last saw me. Yes, I was broken and tainted and angry. But I was more confused than anything. And I was healing.  
>This Peeta is still broken, still tainted. But this Peeta is no longer confused. This Peeta has lost everything.<br>All this Peeta has left is anger.

I suppose I should remind him.  
>"If you have any ounce of self-preservation, you will leave. <em>Now.<em>"

His eyes widen momentarily, telling me he in no way doubts that I'm telling the truth. Yet, he determinedly resumes his hesitant glare.

"You need to let me expla-"

"I don't _need_ to do anything! Don't you _get it_?" I hurl my words at his face. "I have no one! My entire family is _dead!_ Katniss is back to playing her stupid fucking games with my head! I have no one!" I sound like a mad man, laughing, my eyes wide, gesturing wildly to the empty space around me.

"God, Peeta! Don't _you_ fucking get it! Katniss isn't playing any games! She's doing what she's always done!" He no longer looks hesitant, his own rage and anger bubbles over the edge as he storms toward me, taking me by the shoulders, yelling. "When Katniss _cares_ about someone, she _protects _them! _It's what she does_!"

I forcefully shrug his hands off my shoulders, using all of my energy to fight off the shiny memories that begin to claw their way to the front of my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing them back to the recesses of my brain. I snap my eyes back open to resume my glare at the man in front of me. He's panting too, he no longer glares at me.

His gray eyes, so similar to hers, to Katniss's, bore into my own, pleading, begging. My anger begins to waver.

"Please, Peeta. I _need_ to explain what's been going on here since you were taken. I need to explain why I'm here now, why _you're_ here now," he pleads, his voice shaky, yet calm. "Please, Peeta. This isn't you… You know it isn't. Just give me a chance to explain."

I consider his request, my heart pounding against my chest, my anger slowly ebbing away.

No, I am not the same Peeta that I was before we were taken. I wasn't even really myself then, either. Do I even remember what made me "myself" in the first place? The old Peeta, the Peeta before all of this, before the Capitol hi-jacking, before the games, even… Where is he?

_Peeta,  
><em>_Where are you?_

I close my eyes.  
>I see her.<br>I see Prim.

_She stands before me, clad in her reaping clothes, her golden blonde hair and healthy pink skin radiantly like sunshine against the bleak background of the cooked up remains of her home._

_Of our home._

_The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles at me, spreading warmth from my chest to my arms and legs, fingers and toes._

"_Peeta, Here you are!" She crouches down, smiling at the lone dandelion pushing out from the rubble at her feet.  
><em>_The dandelion I promised never to forget  
><em>_To never let die._

_As she speaks, I understand._

"_Never forget, Peeta. Don't ever forget yourself. Don't ever let the hope you hold within you die." _

_This place, this mountain range of burned-up rubble and carnage is what I have become.  
><em>_But who I used to be is still there, the lone dandelion, surviving amidst all of the broken chaos that litters my mind._

_I understand._

I open my eyes, and although the anger is still there, so is the determination to not let it continue to define me. I can't forget who I used to be, because the old me is still here. He may seem small and insignificant now, but he's here. Surviving. Just like he always has.

Just like I always have.

I turn to Gale, who is looking at me curiously, probably gaging whether or not I am going to snap and kill him.  
>I keep my gaze hard, not <em>quite<em> forgiving. Not yet.  
>This Peeta still needs answers.<p>

I take a deep breath.

"Alright," I say, leaning against the wall behind me.  
>He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. I sit, impatiently gesturing to the empty space in front of me.<p>

"Explain."

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><p><em><strong>Hehe, cliffhanger. I figured I'd save the big explanations for the next chapter and let this chapter be more of a self-searching epiphany chapter. Anyways, you know what to do! Review! :)**_

_**(Remember, in your review write your suggestions for the special chapter! Let's make it to 100!)**_


	18. Chapter 18: Vanilla

**Hello readers! **

**Here is the A/N I put in the last chapter yesterday regarding what I'm planning on doing if this story gets to 100 reviews by chapter 20:**

"_**I've decided to do a little something special since this story is nearing 100 reviews. I know it's not a huge amount compared to some other stories, but for me, as a first-time writer, it's a semi-big deal! Haha. I've decided that if we can get to 100 reviews by chapter 20, I'll write an extra chapter or two in someone besides Peeta's or Katniss's POV. Or I'll do a chapter-o-fluff if that's what everyone wants (granted it would most likely be a flashback seeing as right now in the story there isn't really an environment for much fluff). Haha Let me know which character you really want to hear from, or if you'd rather me feature Katniss/Peeta, or if you have some other suggestion, review!"**_

**So, there you have it! Review or PM me your suggestions! Just 17 more reviews! We can do it!**

**Also, I think I may write a one shot in Peeta's POV while he's on the train as it's arriving in District Twelve after the games. Would that be something you would want to read? Or is that sort of thing overdone… Let me know what you think.**

**Anyways, this chapter is once again in Peeta's POV picking up from where he and Gale left off last chapter. Enjoy!**

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><p><em>"Alright," I say, leaning against the wall behind me.<br>__He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. I sit, impatiently gesturing to the empty space in front of me._

_"Explain."_

Gale leans against the wall opposite me, sighing heavily and staring up at the dark, muddy brown ceiling. Contemplating.  
>Remembering.<p>

I can almost hear the clicking of gears turning in his head, rewinding through a year's worth of memories. Sifting through piles of them, looking for the best one to start with. Panning for a pebble in a riverbed full of them.

"You could start with the night they took us. The night _you_ ran away. Then you can get into why we didn't hear from you or anyone else for an entire year," I suggest, an iciness frosting the edges of my voice. He slowly nods, lowering his head to study his hands.

He fixes his gray eyes at a point on the wall above my head, remembering.  
><em>Regretting.<em>

"That night… Before everything happened, I got a phone call." I look at him quizzically. No one had known where we were except Tigris. And where had he gotten a phone? We weren't allowed to carry portable phones or radios on the mission, and the only phones I remember seeing were at the base camp.

"I'm not sure how exactly she knew where we were. Maybe Tigris was able to get a message to someone in Thirteen. I don't know for sure. But either way, that night, Tigris came downstairs while I was on watch and told me someone wanted to speak to me on the phone. Everyone except you was asleep, but you were pretty zoned out, twisting that rope like your life depended on it." I think back, remembering that night. I remember at one point during the night I started to nod off, and came extremely close to having an episode. I vaguely remember Tigris coming downstairs and sitting with me for a while. I was focused on holding back the flashbacks and didn't even notice that Gale had even left the room.

My attention snaps back to Gale, whose brow furrows as he speaks, lost in the memories he's tried to forget.  
>I know the feeling.<p>

"She said… She told me that, at that point in the mission, if anything bad happened to you two, I was to retreat," his voice begins to rise steadily, shaking with frustration, "I argued, I told her I couldn't just leave a man behind. I couldn't just leave _Katniss_ behind… 'That's an order, Hawthorne!' she said. She wouldn't let me argue any further."

"But why?" I ask, confused as to why she would be so insistent on _Gale _getting to safety. Was he really that important? And how did she get him to do it? The Gale Katniss spoke so highly of would have never left his best friend behind for anything. I wait patiently for his answer, forcing myself not to speculate.

"She told me that if all of us were killed or captured, no one would know until the Capitol decided that they should. That by retreating, there would be more hope of a rescue, or, in the event you were killed, 'swift retaliation'" He looks bitterly down at the ground beside his booted feet. "When I asked her why she wanted _me _to do it, she told me it was because I was smart enough to know how important it was for the Capitol not to be given the upper hand," he spits the words at his feet, ashamed. He raises his head suddenly and locks his eyes on mine. "At the time, I understood. She was the President. I was a soldier. She gave me an order. It was my duty to obey that order. It was my duty to save the rebellion."

His voice and eyes are pleading, strained. They reach out to me, tug at me, beg me to understand.  
>But why? Why does Gale care what I think? Why would Gale care what anyone but Katniss thinks?<p>

Katniss Everdeen.  
>The one and only thing Gale Hawthorne and I will ever have in common.<p>

It occurs to me that he's going through so much trouble to explain himself to me because of just that: Katniss. He must not have had a chance to speak to her yet, and he's hoping that if he can get through to me, he might have a chance getting through to her.

_Well, Fat chance._

My face hardens as I return his gaze.  
>I'm not planning on giving Gale the comfort of my forgiveness anytime soon.<br>There is still a lot of explaining to do.  
>A lot of hole that need to be filled.<p>

He looks back to the spot on the wall, rejected, pretending to ignore my stony silence.

"When it happened, I elbowed the peacekeeper that grabbed me in the face, and he tripped over a suitcase one of the capital refugees must have left. I watched Katniss get tranquillized, and I knew I had to get out. So, even though it killed me to leave her, I just… _Ran._" He laughs bitterly, "None of the Peacekeepers even chased me, really. One or two sort of lunged after me after I bolted, but they didn't follow me. I traveled through abandoned buildings, going back the way we came so I wouldn't run into any stray pods. By the time I got back to where Boggs died, all the peacekeepers had cleared out._"_

_Because they found what they were looking for, _I think to myself. The peacekeepers were acting under Snow's orders. Snow wanted Katniss, not her "cousin".  
>Snow wanted the Mockingjay.<br>I doubt peacekeepers would have chased me either if I had been the one to get away. We are all insignificant compared to Katniss.

A memory floats into my mind, playing like a film in my head.  
><em>Taking me home.<em>

When I was twelve, my father tried to teach me how to play chess during a slow day at the bakery. He flattened out an old cardboard shipping box and tore off one of the sides, using the black marker we used to write specials and sales on the window to draw in the checkered squares. It was a quite a bit larger than a normal chess board, but it would do. I watched him warily from my stool behind the register.

I remember thinking how much I didn't want to be there. How stupid and pointless I thought his efforts were. I wasn't in the mood to learn anything, and I was almost positive that I would hate chess. I just wanted to finish my shift so I could go to sleep. It had only been a few days since I had given the bread to Katniss. The welt on my face still throbbed angrily, and I had had a bad day. I just wasn't in the mood for another one of my father's attempts to cheer me up. But I was stuck here, and it was raining so it wasn't likely that anyone was going to come by any time soon. So I decided to humor the man.

"Go into the kitchen and bring me eight or so of those little square chocolates we use for decorating," he said, opening the cabinet under the counter and pulling out a bottle of vanilla and a cinnamon shaker. I reluctantly went into the kitchen and took out eight of the bite sized chocolate squares and dropped them into my apron pocket, resisting the urge to pop one in my mouth. My mother kept very strict inventory, and the thought of receiving a matching welt on my other cheek was enough to quiet my gurgling stomach.

I dumped the chocolates onto the board, wearily eyeing the various baking ingredients he had gathered; two bottles of vanilla, two cinnamon shakers, four foil cupcake liners, four small jars of blueberries, and four triangular plastic icing bag caps. My father had placed the board on a half empty flour barrel behind the counter and pulled up two stools for us sit. I plopped onto the stool opposite him, slumping and huffing my reluctance. While he chuckled at my blatant pout, he lined up the ingredients on the board. When he finished, he clasped his floury hands together admiring his handiwork. Although I was still annoyed, I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. I remember pretending to wipe my nose with the back of my hand just to hide it.

"Alright, Peeta," he said, his eyes scanning the board. "The goal of chess is to capture the other player's king, which, in this case, is the vanilla" he lifted up is bottle of vanilla eying me sternly.

"King. Vanilla. Got it." I replied sarcastically.

"I hope you do, because the king is the most important piece! Just like when you are making a cake, the vanilla is the most important ingredient!" He said confidently.

I scoffed at him, straightening up on my stool. "Vanilla? Vanilla _not_ most important ingredient in a cake, dad."

"It isn't?" He challenges, "then what is?"

I think I said the flour. Or maybe it was the baking soda. Either way, I was sure that it wasn't the vanilla and my father was crazy.

"Nope. It's the vanilla." He said matter-of-factly.

"But-"

"Peeta, are you going to let me finish teaching you chess, or would you rather just do inventory for the rest of your shift?"

I really hated doing inventory.

"Alright, alright! Please, Dad, continue," I said sarcastically, frustrated. He went on identifying the rest of the pieces, telling me which ones could move where. After half an hour of this, he finally finished. We were about to play a practice game when my mother barged in to us it was time to start getting ready for close. Both my father and me jumped about ten feet off our stools. We both cringed guiltily as her eyes traveled to the homemade chess set. I almost thought we were going to get away with it until she saw the chocolates. She started yelling at my father about how they were now unusable and how expensive chocolate was and how both of us must be incompetent. We silently and guiltily took her abuse until she finally rolled her eyes and huffed angrily out of the room. After we heard her heavy footsteps hit the stairs, we stole a glance at each other. He broke out into such a big, mischievous smile, I couldn't help but start laughing, which made him start laughing. We laughed so hard tears streamed down our faces we hand to gasp for air.

After we had calmed down a little, my dad gathered up the chocolates, dividing them evenly between us. Four each, more than I'd ever had at one time before.  
>We ate all of them in seconds.<p>

I never did find out why he thought vanilla was the most important ingredient in a cake.

My mind returns to her, to Katniss.

To the Capitol, Katniss is the king, the vanilla, the most important piece, the most important ingredient. Everyone else is nothing but a pawn. We are insignificant to them.

My father's voice rings in my head, reminding me, "One thing to remember, Peeta, is that you should never underestimate a pawn. Pawns can still move and fight just like every other piece. They may not be as strong, but they can still decide a match. " His face all of a sudden darkened and his voice lowered. He turned to the window, staring out into the gray, glittering rain.

"Pawns can still win."

A deep cough snaps me out of the memory, and I am suddenly aware that I'm not alone.  
>Gale's lip twitches with annoyance before resuming his story, eyeing me tentatively, making sure he has my full attention.<p>

I shudder. Remembering the warmth of the bakery and my father makes this room seem so much colder.  
>So empty.<p>

I refocus my attention on Gale as anger returns to its place in my chest.

"I was on the run for days before I finally made it to District Two. I kept replaying Coins words in my head, reassuring myself I had done the right thing, I could now rally the troops and organizes something to save Katniss, to save everyone. Afterwards though, when I looked back on everything that happened, everything Coin said… It was like she _knew_ something was going to happen that night. Like something had been planned."

He pauses, hesitation sparkling in his eyes.

His words trigger something in me, not completely unrelated to a flashback. It's a memory, but it's hazy.  
>It's shiny, but not as shiny as the others. I must have been having an episode when it happened, or in a haze of tranquillizers, or both.<br>But I remember.

I remember coin, stamping a number on my hand, stating that she was sending me into battle. That she was sending me into battle with _her._

_Katniss._

_Are you, are you  
><em>_Coming to the tree  
><em>_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three_

Naturally, I must have had an episode and had to be tranquillized.  
>However, I remember Coin saying something to her guard right before I passed out.=<br>Something that sends goose bumps up the back of my neck and down my arms.

Her voice rings cold in my ears.  
><em>"Get Snow on the phone. Let him know that once Mr. Mellark arrives in the capitol we will continue our negotiation."<em>

I look up at Gale, my eyes wide with realization.

"She did." I say, my voice coming out in a whisper, "Coin planned the whole god-damned thing."

Although I never got any good and stopped playing altogether after a few months, my father would still be disappointed in me.  
>I had forgotten the most important and basic rule of chess.<p>

_There has to be two to play._

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><p><em><strong>To be continued…<strong>_

_**Now, go review!**_

_******I forgot to mention that I know absolutely nothing about chess, so if I made any mistakes talking about it, that is why... Haha I did some serious googling though, so hopefully I got everything right. :)****_


	19. Chapter 19: Concussed

_**So... It's been a while! :/ I'm extremely sorry it took me so long to update. I've been SWAMPED with schoolwork. End of the semester is always the worst.**_

_**Anyways, thanks everyone who reviewed! I'm pretty confident that we can get to 20 by next chapter, so I'll start writing the next chapter and the extra chapter as soon as I can catch a break, which will probably be sometime next week. Thank you all so much, and I hope you haven't given up on this story quite yet, because despite what you may have thought, I have not! **_

_**Enjoy!**_

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><p><em>"She did." I say, my voice coming out in a whisper, "Coin planned the whole god-damned thing."<em>

_Although I never got any good at chess and stopped playing altogether after a few months, my father would still be disappointed in me._

_I had forgotten the most important and basic rule of chess._

_There has to be two to play._

A memory teases its way to the front of my eyes, and I realize why Gale has been so patient with me. Why the heaviness of guilt refuses to leave his eyes, and why his explanations have only infuriated me even further.

A long time ago, after I found out that Katniss and I would be going back into the arena for the Quarter Quell, Gale Hawthorne made me a promise.

I had just returned from talking with Haymitch after hearing the announcement. I had accepted the fact that this time, I was going to die, and Katniss Everdeen was going to come home. My only challenge was going to be convincing her to let me go.

No, she did not love me. I was well aware of that fact, despite how much I wished she did. I did know, however, that we shared a very deep and unquestionable bond. I could tell that she felt it too. She needed me. She wanted me. Maybe not in the same ways I needed and wanted her, but hey, I wasn't complaining.

Much.

Nevertheless, I knew that she would never just sit by and let me die for her, no matter how much I needed to do it.  
>I also knew that, afterwards, if I were successful, she would need someone to comfort her. And that person was undoubtedly going to be Gale Hawthorne.<p>

So, there I was, a blonde-haired blue-eyed boy from town, a victor, patiently waiting on his doorstep in the seam, hardly inconspicuous. People were staring at me with confused, sad, respectful, sympathetic eyes. They had seen the announcement as well, and were probably assuming exactly what I was planning to do in the arena. I could see the dutiful sadness in their hungry eyes and hollow cheeks.

Finally, the door swung open to reveal a teenage boy, probably around Prim's age. Rory Hawthorne was a miniature of his older brother, Gale, complete with furrowed brow and stubborn scowl.

"Is your older brother home?" I asked, my jaw clenched tight in determination. I needed to have a little chat with the man who claimed to be in love with my fiancé.

"He just left." Rory's voice dropped to a whisper and he leaned in, "I think he was headed towards the woods."

I thanked him and quickly headed towards the fence, hoping he hadn't made it into the woods yet, where I would never be able to track him down. When I reached the edge of the meadow, I spotted him about to crawl under the supposedly electrified wire. She had no idea, but I had seen Katniss do this many times before. I wondered to myself if it was harder for Gale to shimmy under the low gap. He was quite a bit taller than Katniss, but only a little bit thicker. He could hunt, yes. But, like most of the citizens of Twelve, he was still starving.

"Hey! Hawthorne!" I yelled across the meadow just as he had ducked under the wire. He instantly froze, his eyes wide, searching the meadow for the source. He resumed his resentful scowl when he spotted me jogging across the meadow over to him. He remained silent and still on the other side of the fence until I approached.

"What do you want, Mellark?"

I was momentarily taken aback by the barely concealed anger in his voice. I stood up a little straighter and clenched my fists. We stood for a moment, sizing the other up through the fence wires. His blatant rudeness towards me hit a nerve. What does he have to be angry about anymore? Katniss chose him. He won.

I refused to let the crushing pain in my chest show on my face. I need to be strong now. I need to be strong for her.

"I take it you heard the announcement?"

He dropped his gaze to the ground, his fists tightened around the length of rope he had been carrying until they began to tremble slightly.

"Yes," he muttered as he brought his gaze back up to meet mine. His eyes were empty, glazed over, glassy. Hardened.

I softened my gaze. It was not the time to be stubborn. A part of me wanted to hate Gale Hawthorne. And that part of me couldn't help but feel jealousy. She chose him. I loved Katniss Everdeen, and she chose him.

"She is going to come home, Gale," I said making sure my voice remained steady. He looks at me with curious understanding. I moved closer to the fence. I needed him to hear this. "She is going to come home, Gale, and she is going to need someone here to be strong for her-"

He scoffed.

"Katniss doesn't need anyone to be strong but herself."

My eyes bored into his.

"That may be true, but either way, I need you to promise me. I need you to _swear_ you'll be here for her when she gets back. That you'll take care of her, because I won't be able to anymore."

His expression shifted into something that could possibly be perceived as some form of respect.

"Of course," he said, his voice considerably softer, yet steady, "I promise."

I held out my hand through the fence.

A truce.  
>A peace offering.<br>A handshake.

Gale continues to lean patiently against the wall as I collect and struggle to slow my racing thoughts. His stormy gray eyes, so similar to hers, to Katniss's, have darkened into a somber shadow laced painfully with what can only be the dark stillness of quiet understanding.

He is not surprised.  
>He is not shocked.<br>He has answers.

Of course, Alma Coin's betrayal is not news to _Gale Hawthorne_, President of District Thirteen and current leader of the rebellion. _He_ hasn't been holed up in an underground prison for a year with nothing but screaming and pain to lull him to sleep. He has been here, in the heart of the rebellion, working alongside _her_ supporters.

I narrow my eyes in suspicion.  
>How involved has Gale been since Coins demise?<p>

I shake away the spike of anger that shoots up through my chest, pushing and grinding against my clenched teeth. I am getting used to the sudden surges of fury. They are easier to control, easier to subdue.

Anger and I have become more than well enough acquainted.

We are those two old friends who, without fail and on a regular basis, always run into one another in the most inconvenient of places. He always wants to stay for a while and chat, that anger.

This time though, when I see anger strolling towards me from a distance and the shiny memories begin to prick and poke at my skin, I keep my head down. I pretend I cannot see him.

I don't have time for long, reminiscent conversations about _our_ past.  
>I need to know about someone else's past, that someone being Gale Hawthorne, andor Alma Coin.  
>I need answers.<br>I need answers now.

I implore.

"Well then? What are you waiting for? You obviously know what happened!" I practically shriek at him, causing him to jump slightly.

One thing I've noticed about the Gale Hawthorne before me is that he seems jumpier than usual. Less… menacing. Tired, even. Fed up, like a worn, soggy book, or maybe a dented, rusty pipe.

Older.

Gale's lips press firmly into an all too familiar thin line of annoyance. He clutches his head and grimaces slightly as if he's in pain.

The corners of my mouth twitch upward in a subtle victorious smile. I am starting to get to him, and a small part of me cant help but feel the satisfying warmth of reprisal.

"By the time I made it to Two, all hell had broken loose. The Capitol had released a hoard of those lizard mutts into the town center, along with another breed I had never seen before," his shadowy gaze darkens and his eyes widen with memories. "There were these huge rats, or at least they looked like rats… Rats that had been set on fire, with tails that must have been at least 10 feet long. They set everything they could touch on fire and ended up destroying the entire district by the end of it all. There were peacekeepers and fire everywhere, shooting and burning anything and everything, just for the sake of destruction. It was like a living nightmare."

Gales eyes sparkle with anger and he clenches his already balled-up fists even tighter, causing his knuckles to turn white.

Destroying for the sake of destruction.  
>I understand all too well.<p>

"How did they get to Coin?" I ask, and with bubbling feeling of sick pleasure I add, "How did they kill her?"

Gale eyes me warily, as if questioning my sanity. I nearly let out a sarcastic chuckle.

The truth is, I haven't been truly sane in years. Not since I was thrown into an arena when I was sixteen where I was expected to fight twenty-three fellow teenagers, including the girl I had a crush on since I was 5, to the death.

_Ha._ I think darkly, _what sanity?_

Nevertheless, he continues on, a new suspicious edge sprinkled lightly in his voice.

"The rebels had hovercrafts waiting to airlift us back to Thirteen. Somehow, I made it to the rebel headquarters in Two in one piece, give or take." He lifts up the sleeve to reveal a patchwork of spiraling scars up his forearm and bicep.

Burn scars. I recognize them because I have them. Or at least I had them, but that was before the Capitol doctors buffed them out after the first games. Thirteen did not yet have the technology of the Capitol, so Gale's scars remain sharp and pink. They had not yet had enough time to fade.

Studying the spiraling paths of pink makes me realize how much I miss my own scars, the ones I acquired before the games. I know, I know, how can someone _miss_ a scar? Is a scar not just a remnant, a signature that pain leaves behind? For me, each scar had been a memory from home, and I wouldn't take back a single one, whether it had been left whilst wrestling with my brothers, or served as a soft yet steady reminder of the unforgiving nature of my mother's temper and the wrath of the bakery ovens.

However, those scars are gone now, they've been wiped away, and have been replaced by new scars.  
>Signatures written by a much more sinister and violent pain.<p>

Gale abruptly pulls his sleeve back down to cover the spiraling burns, snapping me out of my daze and yanking me back to reality.

_Coin._  
><em>Alma Coin.<em>

He takes a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

"Coin was shot by a Capitol sniper just as she was about to get into one of the hovercrafts." His mouth twitches into a disgusted, angry grimace as he ominously taps the side of his skull.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly sandpaper dry.

"Right in the head. She was dead before she hit the ground. It was… It was a mess."

I turn away, my own mouth twitching in disgust.

_An instant death.  
><em>Alma Coin did not deserve so merciful a death.

Her skull, shattered. Her brain, torn and ripped apart. Her heart, silenced. Forever.

Images flash through my mind. Images shown to me in the Capitol just after our capture. Images shown to me after being told Primrose Everdeen had been killed in a rebel bombing.

Children and silver parachutes.  
>Breaking. Ripping. Exploding.<br>Dying.

That persistent old friend named anger has spotted me once again. He waves enthusiastically to me down, trying hard to get my attention, to beckon me. I look desperately around for something to distract me. Gritting my teeth and clenching my blood-caked fists, I focus on a question.

"Then what?" I ask so coldly, I am surprised Gale does not shiver. I hadn't realized my voice has become nothing but a whisper. "Why didn't you try to save us? Why did you try to save _her?_"

He did not try to save her. He stood aside. He allowed the Capitol to break her.

Yes, I'm also angry for my sake as well. For the sake of Tigris. Cressida. Pollux. He abandoned us all. He was no longer the headstrong, rebellious person Katniss had become best friends and hunting partners with so many years ago.

What could have happened to Gale Hawthorne to make him set aside his love and loyalty for Katniss? How could he trust Coin so easily?

Gale's answer makes my blood run cold.

Apparently he had been hit in the head with the butt of a peacekeeper rifle while he was making his way through Two to the rebel base. When he made it back to Thirteen and the doctors examined him, he was told he had a concussion.

"They told me that they needed to do a simple, twenty-minute minimally invasive surgery to reverse the concussion, and that they were going to inject me with a combination of morphling and sleeping syrup to minimalize the pain."

His eyes squint in confusion.

"I was pretty out of it by that point. I had no idea what was going on, how I got back to Thirteen. My head was killing me. I don't even remember the injection. When I woke up, Paylor was there, along with five other military leaders and Coin's old vice president, an ex-capitol citizen and the husband of Enya Pellifer named Azro Pellifer. Paylor explained that she had been appointed interim president and that the others were members of The Council of district Thirteen."

Gale goes on to explain that before he had been released by the doctors, The Council informed him that since he had been in close combat with the Capitol as well as had been a major contributor to rebel weaponry technology, and seen the inner workings of the Capitol, he was to take Coin's place the President of Thriteen. The council also convinced him to appoint them as consultants until he regained his health, which ended up never happening.

"I stayed in the hospital for a few weeks, but the headaches and confusion never went away. I still get them today, although less often and not as bad. I could still remember everything that had happened, but whenever I'd start to try and formulate any sort of plan or think to hard about anything, my head would start pounding and I'd pretty much forget whatever I was doing. Then the Council would step in and take over."

A creeping, cold feeling was spreading through my stomach, crawling up the back of my neck.

They did something to him when they put him under to reverse his concussion. Whether they injected it with the other drugs or planted it in his brain, Gale Hawthorne has been tampered with.

He catches me staring at him incredulously, and nods slowly, understanding.

"I know they did something to me. They wanted to control me. Why they didn't just vote one of their own as the new president, I don't know. But I know they've done something to my head. When I started to ask questions, they kept me in a locked ward in the hospital. Then, after the rescue, they put me down here with you to keep me out of the way so that they could put you on trial for murder and attempted assassination of the president." He rubs the sides of his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know what you did wasn't completely your fault. I know that now more than ever," he chuckles bitterly.

Turns out Gale Hawthorne and I have more in common that I thought.

I know I should show him that I understand, but I can't seem to shake off the hatred I feel for him, even if it wasn't his fault.  
>I can almost feel my father's disappointment in me. Despite my mother, my father always encouraged me to treat others as I would want to be treated.<br>I remember how Gale had treated me after I had been hijacked.  
>The glares, the mumbled insults. Just like everyone else. No one wanted me, and everyone blamed me. I was alone.<p>

My conscience eats away at me.  
>Guess my humanity isn't completely gone after all.<br>No one, not even Gale Hawthorne deserved to feel as miserable as I was made to feel.

I lift up my arm and hold out my hand.

A truce.  
>A peace offering.<br>A handshake.

Just before he is about to grasp my hand, however, we hear a commotion outside the door and freeze.

"Gale!" a familiar voice calls out.  
>My heartbeat quickens involuntarily, thundering against the walls of my chest, pushing itself towards the voice.<p>

"Catnip?" Gale whispers in disbelief.

I hear the thud of a body hitting the ground, and the thundering in my chest comes to a sickening halt.  
>Everything is silent.<p>

"Gale? Gale? Are you in there?" Katniss yells breathlessly.

Gale runs to the door, a broad smile stretched madly across his face.

"Catnip! We're in here!" he screams through a fit of laughter, and when she finally gets the door open with a stolen key, he embraces her wildly and desperately.

She automatically stiffens when she sees they are not alone.

I stand motionless. Bitterness and hurt stomping mercilessly all over the remains of my heart.  
>It is not me she has come to save.<br>Once again, she chose _him._

She speaks, her beautiful, mismatched eyes firmly locked on mine.  
>"Gale," she says, her voice steady and true.<p>

Her eyes search my own. Looking for something.  
>Looking for forgiveness.<p>

"Gale, you are going to help me save Peeta."

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><p><em><strong>Now, its time to review! Let me know what you want the extra chapter to be! Thank you everyone!<strong>_


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